^ 


.-AC IF::.  AVINtW 
•Q  BEACH,  CALIF. 


OUT  OF  WEDLOCK, 

BY  ALBERT   Ross. 


AUTHOR  OF 

"LovE   AT    SEVENTY,"    "AN   ORIGINAL  SINNER,* 

"WHY  I'M  SINGLE,"  "  THOU  SHALT  NOT," 

"  YOUNG  Miss  GIDDY,"  ETC. 


"  There  is  no  motherhood  outside  of 
wedlock  that  can  be  tolerated  in  a  civil- 
ized country — none  that  will  not  bring  to 
its  possessor  a  terrible  load  of  ignominy 
and  suffering'' — Page  12 5. 


M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  NEW  YORK 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS. 


MR.   MEDFORD'S  STORY. 

Chapter  Pag« 

I.  Beginning  with  a  Mystery.  .  .      g 

MISS   BRIXTON'S   PARENTS. 

II.  "The  tragedy  of  my  life."  .  16 

III.  Housekeeping  under  Difficulties. .        .  25 

IV.  George  and  Emma 34 

V.  4<  Tell  me  you  love  him  !"     .         .        .  43 

VI.  Mr.  Brixton  Understands.      .         .         .49 

VII.  Among  the  Adirondacks.       .        .         .57 

VIII.  "  Ugh  !  What  can  you  do  ?"  .        .        .    65 

MISS  BRIXTON'S   GIRLHOOD. 

IX.  The  Birth  of  Blanche 72 

X.  "  I  never  had  a  child."  ....     82 

XI.  Mjbther  Love  Prevails 92 

XII.  Forgiveness  and  Death.          .        .         .  102 

XIII.  "  The  risk  is  too  great."        .         .         .114 

XIV.  An  Artificial  Rule 123 

XV.  Professional  Services.     ....  136 

M 

2061S69 


VI  CONTENTS. 

MISS  BRIXTON   A  MOTHER. 

Chapter 

XVI.  "  Too  lovely  for  anything."  .        .        .146 
XVII.  An  Amateur  Detective.  ...  156 

XVIII.  In  and  About  Algiers 166 

XIX.  "  He  insulted  a  woman."        .        .         .   175 

XX.  Fantelli  Astonished 182 

XXI.  Blanche  Goes  Abroad  in  Haste.     .         .  188 
XXII.  "  Quel  age  as  tu,  mon  bebe  ?"        .         .  196 

XXIII.  At  Boulogne-sur-Mer 206 

MR.   MEDFORD   AGAIN. 

XXIV.  Everything  up  to  Date.         .         .  211 

MISS   BRIXTON'S   DILEMMA. 

XXV.  Meeting  Monsieur  Martine.  .        .         .  215 

XXVI.  A  Visit  to  a  Monastery.  .         .         .  227 

XXVII.  "  The  priest  told  you  !"  ...  235 

XXVIII.  A  Great  Clue  Exploded.  .        .        .244 

XXIX.  "  He  is  her  husband."    .  .        .         .255 

XXX.  A  Day  at  Conde  Smendou.  .         .         .  263 

MISS   BRIXTON'S   CONFESSION. 

XXXI.  A  Gentleman  of  France.         .         .  .  271 

XXXII.  "  If  you  had  searched  the  world."  .  280 

XXXIII.  Caught  in  a  Trap.  .         .         .         .  .288 

XXXIV.  "  He  looks  like  Wallace."       .         .  .299 

READY   FOR   THE   JURY. 
XXXV.  And  now  Suit  Yourselves.      .         .         .  308 


TO  MY  READERS. 


No  question  raised  in  recent  years  has  touched 
thoughtful  minds  more  than  this — "  Is  Marriage  a 
Failure  ?"  When  first  uttered  it  seemed  to  strike  at 
the  very  foundation  of  all  things.  If  marriage  was 
a  failure,  said  many,  what  hope  was  there  for  man- 
kind ? 

And  still  there  have  been  some  who,  like  Ella 
Drew,  in  the  novel  before  you,  "  have  found  it 
heaven  I"  And  there  have  been  others,  like  George 
Brixton,  whom  it  has  cursed  ;  and  yet  others,  like 
his  daughter  Blanche,  who  have  sought,  in  all  good 
faith,  to  escape  its  trammels. 

Eminent  writers  in  Europe  are  now  discussing 
whether  there  may  not  be  some  safe  modification  of 
the  marriage  vow.  Socialists  look  with  confidence 
toward  a  time  when  an  advanced  step  will  be  taken 
through  the  economic  enfranchisement  of  women- 
But  to  most  of  us  it  is  plain  that  a  few  cannot  with 
impunity  step  aside  from  the  mass  in  this  matter, 
any  more  than  they  can  walk  ashore  from  a  steam- 
er's deck  before  it  reaches  the  pier. 

[vii] 


10  STY    READERS. 

The  other  subject  of  which  this  volume  treat*  .« 
also  most  serious.  One  of  these  days  the  continua- 
tion of  the  human  race  will  receive  as  intelligent 
treatment  as  that  of  the  breeding  of  domestic  ani- 
mals, or  I  am  mistaken.  In  the  meantime — under 
present  conditions — wedlock  is  a  hideous  travesty 
unless  there  be  common  honesty  between  the  parties 
to  it. 

This  will  reach  the  first  instalment  of  my  second 
million  of  readers.  The  evidence  is  ample  that  they 
are  not  limited  to  any  section  of  this  country,  nor 
even  to  the  Western  continent.  In  return  for  the 
public's  kindness  I  again  promise  my  best  efforts  in 
a  field  where  I  have  found  such  conspicuous  appre- 
ciation. 

ALBERT  ROSS. 
Cambridge,  Mass. 
Not.,  1894. 


OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 


MR.  MEDFORD'S  STORY. 
CHAPTER   I. 

BEGINNING    WITH   A    MYSTERY. 

"If  you  want  a  stranger  tale  than  anything  in 
fiction,  you  should  learn  the  true  history  of  Miss 
Brixton's  baby." 

Thus  spoke  my  friend,  Joseph  Medford,  as  we 
strolled  together  along  the  shore  at  Lake  Leman. 
We  had  met  unexpectedly  at  the  Hotel  Suisse, 
Geneva,  where  I  was  stopping  on  my  way  to  the 
resorts  higher  up  the  mountains. 

Medford  was  the  last  man  to  whom  I  should  have 
gone  for  the  plot  of  a  novel.  He  was  a  retired 
merchant,  who  had  made  a  fortune.  It  surprised 
me  very  much  when  lie  remarked  that  he  had  read 
several  of  my  works,  and  the  conversation  that  en- 
sued led  to  the  statement  quoted  above. 

[91 


10  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

"  Miss  Brixton  ?"  I  repeated,  with  a  smile  at  what 
I  supposed  was  his  carelessness  of  pronunciation. 
"You  mean  Mrs.  Brixton,  I  presume." 

Medford  put  on  the  air  of  one  who  does  not  like 
to  be  corrected. 

"  If  I  had  meant  Mrs.  Brixton,  I  should  have  said 
so,"  he  responded,  with  a  certain  dignity.  "  I  said 
Miss  Brixton,  I  believe." 

To  this  I  vouchsafed  a  single  syllable — "  Ah  !" 
Before  my  mind  there  arose  the  ever-recurring 
tragedy — a  girl  led  away  by  specious  promises  or 
fallen  a  victim  to  her  own  wild  and  curbless  passion. 
It  is  a  theme  that  has  been  used  by  a  thousand 
novelists,  and  it  seemed  impossible  that  there  could 
be  anything  essentially  new  in  such  an  experience. 

"  Does  the  case  differ  so  much,  then,"  I  inquired, 
"  from  those  that  have  already  been  made  the  sub- 
ject of  romance  ?" 

"In  every  particular,"  replied  my. friend.  "At 
least,  it  is  totally  unlike  anything  /  have  seen  in 
print.  Not  only  this,  but  I  believe  it  unique  as 
an  actual  occurrence.  If  you  wish,  I  will  outline  it 
to  you." 

My  curiosity  was  now  fairly  alive.  I  begged  Mr. 
Medford  to  begin  at  once,  and  not  to  content  him- 
self with  an  outline  either,  but  to  give  me  the  fullest 
details  of  which  he  was  possessed.  He  answered 
that  this  would  need  considerable  time,  and  I  said 
I  was  at  his  disposal,  even  if  it  took  all  night. 

u  I  cannot  tell,"  he  said,  "  whether  it  will  require 
five  hours  or  ten  to  give  you  the  details  I  have 
gathered.  They  are  in  a  somewhat  chaotic  state  in  my 
mind,  and  will  have  to  be  put  together  slowly.  And, 
as  I  hinted  in  the  first  place,  the  most  interesting  part 


BEGINNING    WITH    A   MYSTERY.  11 

o-  die  matter  is  still  veiled  in  mystery.  Perhaps  you 
will  be  able  to  unravel  the  hidden  threads  and  com- 
plete the  story  to  your  own  satisfaction  ;  but  cer- 
tainly, none  of  Miss  Brixton's  friends  have  yet  been 
able  to  learn  the  least  thing  beyond  what  she  has 
chosen  to  tell  them." 

I  asked  Medford  if  he  would  permit  me  a  few 
questions  in  advance  of  his  narrative. 

"  By  all  means,"  he  said.  "  As  many  as  you 
please." 

"  To  begin  with,  how  did  you  learn  the  facts  you 
are  about  to  relate  ?" 

"  From  George  Brixton,  Mrs.  Brixton  and  Miss 
Brixton,  mainly,"  was  the  affable  response.  "  The 
young  lady's  father  made  a  confidant  of  me  in  many 
things.  Her  mother  I  also  knew  to  some  extent. 
Then  I  have  talked  by  the  hour  with  Stephen  Drew 
and  his  wife,  with  Dr.  Robertson  and  Mrs.  Rey- 
nolds. (You  will  hear  more  of  these  people  pres- 
ently.) Blanche — that  is,  Miss  Brixton — has  dis- 
cussed matters  with  me  as  freely  as  if  I  were  her 
brother,  or  even  her  sister.  And  the  baby— Miss 
Brixton's  baby — knows  me  as  well  as  a  young  gen- 
tleman of  his  age  could  be  expected  to  do,  and  has 
jumped  and  crowed  in  my  arms  within  the  last  three 
weeks." 

I  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  I  remarked  in  a 
subdued  tone  that  such  cases  were  very  sad,  espe- 
cially when  they  happened  among  the  better  edu- 
cated and  more  cultured  classes.  They  made  one 
doubt  whether  the  world  was  not  growing  worse 
instead  of  better. 

"  Miss  Brixton  would  not  agree  with  you,"  said 
Medford,  quickly.  "  She  is  the  happiest  young 


12  OTTT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

mother  I  ever  knew.     In  her  sweet  face  there  is  not 
a  single  tinge  of  regret." 

I  stared  at  my  friend  in  astonishment. 

"  And  she  is  an  unwedded  mother  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Precisely." 

"Then  her  reason  must  be  unhinged,"  I  asserted, 
soberly. 

"  Certainly  not  in  the  ordinary  sense,"  he  answered. 
"  Aside  from  this  matter  of  the  child,  she  appears  as 
sensible  as  any  other  healthy  girl.  She  conforms 
in  nearly  everything  else  to  the  prevailing  fashions. 
She  dresses,  for  instance,  in  the  usual  mode.  She 
looks,  lives  and  acts  like  the  rest  of  her  sex,  so  far 
as  I  can  see.  Her  signature  on  a  business  paper  is 
never  disputed.  She  keeps  to  herself  a  good  deal, 
but  that  is  because  the  majority  of  women  do  not 
like  to  associate  with  one  who  has  proved  her  belief 
in  such  ultra,  or,  as  she  would  call  them, '  advanced  ' 
doctrines.  Blanche,  however,  does  not  care  for 
society.  Her  time  is  more  pleasantly  spent  with 
her  child,  whom  she  passionately  adores.  Sane  ? 
Why,  yes.  No  jury  would  question  her  ability  to 
care  for  herself,  her  boy  or  her  property." 

I  waited  a  moment,  and  then  inquired  who  was 
the  father  of  the  infant. 

"  That  is  the  mystery,"  said  Medford.  "  From  the 
little  we  have  learned  it  appears  that  the  man  is 
dead.  Dr.  Robertson  drew  this  from  her,  with  a 
few  other  particulars  of  little  importance,  during  a 
few  hours  when  she  stood  in  imminent  danger  of 
dying,  and  she  has  never  denied  or  modified  her 
statements.  The  only  trouble  is,  she  will  not  add 
the  least  syllable  to  them." 


BEGINNING   WITH   A   MYSTEKY.  13 

*'  She  does  not  appear  to  mourn  him  very  deeply  ?" 
I  suggested. 

"No.  Not  as  a  woman  would  mourn  a  husband 
or  a  lover.  The  Doctor  says  the  tears  came  into  her 
eyes  when  she  mentioned  that  he  was  no  more,  but 
she  has  not  put  on  crape,  either  literally  or  figura- 
tively. She  sings,  smiles,  dines  well,  and  acts  quite 
the  opposite  of  broken-hearted." 

To  this  I  remarked,  after  reflection,  that  her  con- 
duct was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  judged  from  one 
standpoint.  A  fellow  of  that  kind  did  not  deserve 
to  be  very  sincerely  regretted. 

"  A  fellow  of  what  kind  ?"  asked  Medford,  quiz- 
zically. 

"  One  who  would  deceive  a  girl  and  then  desert 
her." 

My  companion  smiled. 

"  But  this  man  did  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  he. 

"  Did  nothing  of  the  sort  ?"  I  echoed.  "  Did  not 
deceive  or  desert  her?" 

"  Neither  the  one  thing  nor  the  other.' 

"  Pshaw  !     That  is  a  riddle,"  I  replied. 

"  Nothing  but  the  simple  truth.  Miss  Brixton 
freely  admits,  to  all  who  care  to  discuss  the  matter 
with  her,  that  if  there  were  any  deception,  it  was  on 
her  part,  not  his." 

I  nodded  ironically. 

"  Oh  !  It  was  Miss  Brixton  who  deceived  and 
deserted  her  lover  !" 

"  Something  of  that  nature,"  assented  Medford, 
with  another  laugh.  "  But  let  me  say  that  if  you 
keep  on  at  this  rate  you  will  take  all  the  interest  out 
of  my  story.  It  is  a  girl's  way,  rather  than  a  man's, 


14:  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

to  skip  through  the  pages  of  a  book  and  read  the 
last  chapter  first." 

I  admitted  the  truth  of  the  observation,  and  said 
there  were  only  one  or  two  other  things  that  I 
wanted  to  know  before  settling  myself  into  the 
attitude  of  a  patient  and  uninterrupting  listener. 

"  I  presume  you  will  tell  me  next  "  I  added,  "  that 
the  father  of  Miss  Brixton's  child  met  his  death  on 
account  of  a  broken  heart,  superinduced  by  his 
regret  at  losing  her." 

"  I  would  oblige  you  with  the  greatest  pleasure," 
replied  Medford,  "if  I  were  inventing  a  tale  for  the 
occasion.  As  mine  is,  unfortunately,  a  truthful  one, 
I  must  do  otherwise.  No  ;  as  I  understand  it,  the 
pangs  of  unrequited  love  did  not  cut  short  the  career 
of  this  person,  but  a  much  more  prosaic  thing — a, 
bullet." 

It  was  getting  interesting  indeed  ! 

"  So  she  shot  him  !"  I  exclaimed.  "Well,  a  man 
who  would  permit  a  woman  to  deceive,  betray  and 
desert  him  deserved  no  better  fate." 

Mr.  Medford's  amused  face  showed  me,  even 
before  he  spoke,  that  I  had  fallen  into  another 
error. 

"  She  did  not  shoot  him,"  he  said. 

"Then  he  shot  himself,  which  was  quite  the  best 
thing  he  could  do." 

"No,  he  did  not  shoot  himself." 

"  Was  there  another  woman  in  the  case  ?"  I 
asked. 

,  "It  is  not  believed  that  there  was.  When  you 
have  heard  all  I  know  about  this  matter — in  case 
you  are  ever  ready  to  let  me  tell  you — your  theories 
will  be  advanced  with  more  precision.  Dr.  Robert- 


BEGINNING    WITH   A   MTSTEfST.  15 

son  and  I  have  concluded,  by  comparing  the  little 
we  have  heard,  that  Miss  Brixton  cared  about  as 
much  for  this  man  as  you  do  for  that  blonde  lady 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  to  whom  you  have 
never  spoken.  He  became  the  father  of  her  child 
without  the  least  affection  on  her  part,  and  he  did 
not  live  many  days  after  she  met  him.  He  was  dead 
and  buried  months  and  months  before  little  Wallace 
was  born." 

There  was  a  chilly  air  about  the  story.  I  was  glad 
that  Medford  could  assure  me  that  the  father  came 
to  his  death  by  other  hands  than  those  of  the  fair 
Miss  Blanche,  even  if  it  was  "  by  some  person  or 
persons  to  the  jurors  unknown."  Otherwise, 
thoughts  of  seraglio  life,  where  guilty  lovers  of 
sultanas  are  sewn  in  sacks  and  dropped  into  the 
Bosphorus,  would  surely  have  obtruded  themselves. 

"  If  all  you  say  is  without  deception,"  I  said, 
"  there  is  but  one  other  tenable  theory.  Miss 
Brixton  was  the  victim  of  an  atrocious  assault." 

Medford  laughed  once  more,  the  exasperating 
laugh  of  one  who  has  a  certainty  of  his  secret. 

"  Wrong  again  !"  he  replied.  "  In  that  case  the 
man  would  surely  have  died  by  her  hand  instead  of 
by  that  of  another.  You  would  agree  to  this  if  you 
had  met  Miss  Brixton.  I  should  be  happy  to  intro- 
duce you,  by  the  way,  if  you  ever  happen  to  meet 
us  together.  Would  you  care  to  have  me  ?" 

I  responded  that  I  could  tell  better  about  that 
when  I  had  heard  the  whole  of  his  story. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Medford.  "  In  order  to  get  to 
the  end  of  a  tale,  one  of  the  principal  essentials  is  to 
make  a  beginning  ;  and  that,  if  you  will  excuse  me 


16  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

from  answering  any  more  questions  at  this  time,  I 
will  now  proceed  to  do." 

I  bowed  and  asked  him  to  proceed. 

And  Medford  proceeded. 

[The  reader  will  please  understand  that  the  following 
chapters,  to  the  end  of  the  twenty-third,  are  in  the  language 
of  Mr.  Medford.  And  to  ease  the  mind  of  those  who 
remember  that  his  story  was  begun  while  we  were  stroll- 
ing on  the  lake  shore,  let  me  explain  that  it  was  finished  very 
late  that  night  in  my  apartment  at  the  hotel. — A.  R.] 


MISS  BRIXTON'S  PARENTS. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MY  LIFE." 

It  has  been  well  remarked  by  somebody  (said 
Medford)  that  "  one  cannot  be  too  careful  in  select- 
ing his  grandparents."  Miss  Brixton's  chief  error 
was  in  the  choice  of  her  father  and  mother.  Her 
more  remote  ancestors,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to 
ascertain,  were  people  who  got  along  without  mak- 
ing any  particular  impression  upon  the  community  ; 
an  eminently  proper  thing,  let  me  remark,  for  ances- 
tors to  do.  A  person  is  better  off,  I  contend,  with 
progenitors  of  that  kind,  than  with  those  who  hav» 


"THE   TRAGEDY   OF   MY    LIFE."  17 

been  either  great  geniuses  or  great  rascals.  He 
will  have  neither  the  bad  reputation  of  the  one  to 
live  down,  nor  the  impossibly  high  standard  of  the 
other  to  emulate.  But  Blanche's  father  and  mother 
got  into  trouble  over  her  at  a  very  early  stage  in  her 
career,  and  their  conduct  must  have  contributed 
toward  making  her  what  she  is  to-day. 

Before  I  had  known  George  Brixton  a  week  I 
knew  that  he  was  not  on  the  most  cordial  terms 
with  his  wife.  How  did  I  find  this  out  ;  by  making 
inquiries?  I  made  just  one,  the  answer  to  which 
informed  me  that  he  was  not  a  widower. 

Upon  his  desk  were  several  photographs  of  his 
daughter,  but  nothing  that  indicated  the  nature  of 
Mrs.  B.'s  lineaments.  I  commented  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  child,  and  saw  the  devoted  look  in 
his  face  as  he  turned  toward  the  pictures. 

"  Is  she  your  only  one  ?"  I  asked,  and  there  was  a 
most  peculiar  expression  to  his  eyes  as  he  answered, 
"  Yes,  my  only  one  !" 

Before  I  had  called  many  times,  Brixton  began 
to  give  me  more  particulars  about  this  child.  He 
seemed  delighted  to  tell  of  what  a  comrade  she  was 
to  him,  of  excursions  they  made  together,  of  even- 
ings spent  at  home  in  her  company.  Never  did  he 
make  the  faintest  allusion  to  his  wife,  and  the  whole 
tenor  of  his  remarks  indicated  that  he  had  none. 

There  are  people  one  "  takes  to,"  as  if  by  instinct. 
I  got  to  liking  Brixton  in  a  very  brief  time.  Soon  a 
friendship  sprang  up  between  us  such  as  does  not 
often  follow  a  mere  mercantile  transaction.  This  is 
the  more  noteworthy  because,  as  he  often  told  me,  I 
was  one  of  only  three  or  four  men  with  whom  he  had 
ever  been  in  the  least  degree  confidential.  His  face 


18  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK. 

brightened  whenever  I  entered  his  office,  and  ottie/ 
business  was  always  laid  aside  until  my  departure. 

When  I  asked  him  to  go  to  lunch  with  me,  he  re- 
plied that  he  invariably  took  his  meals  at  home. 

"Blanche  expects  me — my  little  girl,  you  know," 
he  said,  with  infinite  tenderness.  "I  never  disap- 
point her.  When  I  turn  the  corner  I  can  always  see 
her  face  at  the  window,  in  winter  time  like  this,  and 
in  summer  she  runs  to  meet  me.  I  fear  we  appear 
silly  to  the  neighbors,  now  that  she  has  grown  so 
big.  I  have  been  told  that  I  care  too  much  for  her, 
and  perhaps  I  do.  My  feelings  come  very  near  to  the 
prohibition  against  idolatry." 

After  this  confidence  I  could  not  help  remarking 
that  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  see  Miss 
Blanche,  for  whom  I  admitted  I  had  conceived  a 
warm  admiration.  Brixton  did  not  reply  to  my  sug- 
gestion for  a  moment,  and  I  could  see  his  face  red- 
dening as  he  realized  that  a  question  of  politeness 
was  at  issue. 

"I  did  not  hesitate,"  he  said,  finally,  "because  I 
have  any  doubt  that  I  should  like  to  have  you  come, 
or  that  Blanche  would  be  glad  to  see  you.  The  fact 
iSj  we  receive  hardly  any  visitors.  However,  an  ex- 
ception shall  be  made  in  your  case,  and  you  may 
choose  as  early  a  date  as  you  desire." 

Having  said  this,  Mr.  Brixton  launched  into  sev- 
eral complimentary  expressions,  which  were  very 
agreeable  to  me,  coming  from  a  man  I  esteemed  so 
highly.  I  assured  him  that  I  should  regard  the  priv- 
ilege of  entering  his  home  all  the  more  from  the  fact 
that  it  was  one  so  seldom  accorded. 

"You  put  the  case  too  strongly,"  he  smiled.  "We 
are  very  plain  people.  You  will  see  an  ordinary 


"THE  TRAGEDY  OP  MY  LIFE."  19 

house,  with  nothing  extravagant  in  the  furnishings. 
There  is  but  one  jewel  within  its  walls — that  child  of 
mine." 

"  She  must  be  very  dear  to  you,"  I  remarked. 

"She  is  everything  to  me,"  said  he,  gravely.  "I 
guard  her  with  the  greatest  care,  and  yet  not  in  the 
way  that  most  fathers  would  think  of  following. 
While  I  take  pains  that  her  companionships  shall  be 
of  the  best,  I  have  not  kept  her  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  Sin  forms  a  part  of  the  arrangements  of  nature. 
She  is  hardly  thirteen,  and  yet  she  is  as  wise — indeed, 
in  a  true  sense,  wiser — than  many  young  women  of 
twenty.  The  knowledge  that  is  allowed  to  come  to 
most  girls  in  a  perverted  and  distorted  shape  has 
been  imparted  to  her  so  gradually  that  it  contains 
nothing  gross.  When  you  have  seen  her  I  want  you 
to  say  whether  she  is  not  as  thoroughly  unspoiled  as 
if  she  had  been  lied  to  and  cajoled  out  of  informa- 
tion as  necessary  to  her  well-being  as  the  air  she 
breathes.  I  have  been  warned  that  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  be  so  frank  with  her,  but  I  do  not  believe 
it.  If  my  experiment  were  to  fail,  there  would  be 
some  signs  of  it  before  now.  If  there  is  a  danger 
point,  she  has  passed  it." 

As  I  did  not  pretend"  to  understand  the  subject, 
and  indeed,  did  not  thoroughly  comprehend  at  the 
time  what  he  meant,  I  was  silent.  He  repeated  that 
he  was  at  home  nearly  every  evening  and  should  be 
glad  to  see  me  at  my  earliest  convenience. 

"  There  are  so  few  entertainments  to  take  a  young 
girl  to,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh.  "  One  tires  of 
concerts,  be  they  ever  so  good.  The  theatres  have 
reached  a  point  where  many  of  the  plays  are  out  of 
the  question.  We  have  done  the  art  galleries  re- 


20  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

peatedly.  There  is  no  choice  but  to  stay  at  home. 
Come  any  evening  you  like,  you  will  be  certain  to 
find  us  in." 

A  night  was  chosen,  the  third  one  from  the  day 
on  which  we  held  this  conversation,  and  at  eight 
o'clock  I  ascended  the  steps  of  Mr.  Brixton's  resi- 
dence. He  was  watching,  and  came  immediately  to 
meet  me.  As  soon  as  my  wraps  were  disposed  of  he 
took  me  into  his  library,  and  before  sitting  down 
went  for  his  daughter. 

"  Here  is  my  child,"  he  said,  leading  her  in. 
"  Blanche,  my  friend,  Mr.  Medford." 

Even  if  I  had  never  heard  anything  about  the 
girl — if  I  had  been  sitting  there  on  ordinary  busi- 
ness and  had  merely  noticed  her  enter  the  room — I 
should  have  been  strongly  attracted  toward  her. 
My  powers  of  description  are  wholly  inadequate  to 
convey  to  you  the  impression  she  made  upon  me. 
With  the  form  and  stature  of  a  child  of  thirteen,  she 
had  a  look  and  manner  several  years  older.  Though 
her  face  was  not — understand  this  perfectly — one 
of  those  prematurely  aged  ones  that  make  us  wish 
the  vanishing  youth  would  tarry  until  its  proper 
time  for  departure  ;  it  was  as  fresh  and  rosy  as  any 
infant's. 

Before  she  spoke  I  noticed  her  extreme  self- 
possession,  the  perfect  confidence,  the  absence  of 
timidity,  and  yet  nothing  like  posing.  The  words 
that  issued  from  her  lips  were  correct  in  enunciation, 
but  neither  pedantic  nor  strained.  Her  tones  were 
sweet  and  natural.  She  gave  me  her  hand  frankly, 
with  a  clasp  something  like  that  of  a  boy,  attribut- 
able, no  doubt,  to  the  close  companionship  she  had 
had  with  her  father,  rather  than  with  girls  of  her 


"THE  TBAOKDY  OF  MY  LIFE."  21 

age.  I  felt  toward  her  as  I  had  done  toward  Mr. 
Brixton  when  I  first  knew  him — I  accepted  her  with- 
out reserve. 

There  was  no  attempt  at  formality  in  the  talk  that 
followed.  We  discussed  the  affairs  of  the  day 
exactly  as  if  Blanche  had  been  a  grown  woman. 
She  surprised  me  by  proving,  in  the  occasional 
remarks  that  she  interjected,  that  she  was  a  regular 
reader  of  the  daily  newspapers.  She  knew,  for 
instance,  a  good  deal  about  a  tariff  bill  that  was  at 
that  time  being  discussed  in  Congress,  and  expressed 
her  opinion  as  to  whether  it  would  pass  the  House  of 
Representatives,  which  was  shown,  by  the  way,  in 
after  days,  to  be  a  correct  one.  A  ministerial  trial 
for  heresy  had  not  escaped  her  observation.  When 
it  was  alluded  to  by  me,  she  showed  much  interest 
in  it,  asking  a  number  of  questions  as  to  the  points 
involved  that  I  was  entirely  incapable  of  answering. 

She  knew  the  city  from  north  to  south,  and  from 
river  to  river,  as  well  as  a  thousand  things  I  should 
never  have  expected  would  enter  the  head  of  such  a 
child.  It  was  very  seldom,  to  put  it  fairly,  that  her 
father  and  I  touched  any  subject  on  which  she  had  not 
a  considerable  stock  of  information.  And  where  she 
did  not  understand,  she  was  ready  with  her  interroga- 
tions, anxious  to  let  no  opportunity  escape  to  inform 
herself. 

Two  hours  passed  in  this  way,  to  my  great  enter- 
tainment. When  the  clock  struck  ten  Mr.  Brixton 
asked  Blanche  if  she  would  not  like  to  show  Mr. 
Medford  her  dolls.  Upon  which  the  child  smilingly 
acquiesced,  and  excusing  herself  in  the  most  charm- 
ing manner  went  to  fetch  them. 

"  Dolls  !"  I  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of 


22  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

hearing.     "  Has  she  kept  the  playthings  of  her  child 
hood  till  now  ?" 

"Her  childhood?"  echoed  Brixton,  with  a  start. 
*'  Her  childhood  ?  Why,  she  is  in  the  very  fruit  and 
flower  of  it  !  Did  you  think  childhood  ended  when 
a  girl  reached  her  teens  ?  Blanche  cares  for  her 
dolls  as  much  as  she  did  five  years  ago  ;  in  fact,  I 
think  she  grows  fonder  of  them  every  day." 

This  statement  filled  me  with  intense  surprise.  I 
had  been  noting  this  girl's  remarkable  stock  of 
knowledge,  and  had  come  to  consider  her  a  prodigy 
of  learning.  She  had  carried  herself  in  our  company 
with  all  the  ease  of  ten  additional  years,  retaining 
still  the  gentleness  and  grace  of  her  extreme  youth. 
But,  dolls  !  How  could  I  conceive  that  the  mind  which 
had  been  devoted  for  the  previous  quarter-hour  to 
the  Triple  Alliance  and  the  Franco-Russian  under- 
standing would  turn  with  equal  interest  to  the 
puppets  of  babyhood  ! 

"  Papa,"  said  the  young  voice,  as  its  owner  reap- 
peared at  the  door,  "  don't  you  think,  as  there  are 
so  many,  Mr.  Medford  had  better  come  and  see 
them  in  their  own  quarters  ?" 

Mr.  Brixton  and  I  complied  with  the  suggestion, 
and  a  moment  later  we  were  in  a  room  such  as  I 
certainly  had  never  seen  before,  though  no  doubt 
there  are  others  somewhat  like  it.  The  furniture, 
with  the  exception  of  several  larger  chairs,  was  of 
a  Lilliputian  pattern,  and  consisted  of  beds,  sofas, 
bureaus,  etc.,  of  a  size  to  fit  the  mimic  occupants, 
which  were  at  least  fifty  in  number.  It  was,  in 
short,  the  most  complete  dolls'  nursery  you  could 
imagine. 

"And  you  still  play  with  them  ?"  I  could  not  help 


"THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MY  LIFE."  23 

saying,  for  the  fact  was  incomprehensible  in  view  of 
what  else  I  had  seen  and  heard. 

u  Of  course  I  do  !"  laughed  the  fresh  young  voice. 
"  I  spend  two  hours  here  every  day.  It  is  the  greatest 
fun  !  I  have  names  for  them  all  ;  and  their  histories 
are  written  down  in  this  book,"  showing  me  a  large, 
ledger-like  volume;  "and  I  have  medicines  in  this 
little  chest,  when  they  are  sick  ;  and  each  has  her  sum- 
mer clothes  as  well  as  winter  ones,  as  you  can  see 
by  examining  this  closet.  I  think  they  are  the 
sweetest  things  in  the  world — except — except,"  the 
child  hesitated  several  seconds — "real,  '  truly' 
babies." 

Blanche  had  a  wistful  expression  as  she  said  this, 
that  I  shall  never  forget.  It  was  a  look  like  that  of 
a  starving  child  who  spoke  of  food. 

"Quite  a  nurse,  isn't  she?"  said  Mr.  Brixton, 
gazing  fondly  at  his  offspring.  "  And  she  is  just  as 
capable  of  taking  care  of  living  children  as  of  these 
imitations.  We  feel  the  same  way  about  it — Blanche 
and  I.  You  ought  to  be  here  some  time  when  we 
have  one  of  our  infant  parties.  Blanche  borrows 
half  the  babies  in  the  neighborhood  and  puts  them 
around  the  floor  here,  each  with  a  toy  to  keep  it 
quiet,  and  we  have  the  most  delightful  time.  I 
asked  her  once  what  she  wanted  to  be  when  she 
grew  up — we  were  speaking  of  professions — and  she 
said,  'A  mother'  " 

The  little  daughter  nodded  assent  to  the  state- 
ment. 

"  I  do  envy  the  mothers  so  !"  she  cried,  not 
attempting  to  conceal  her  enthusiasm.  "  Sometimes, 
when  I  have  carried  all  my  babies  home,  I  sit  down 


2i  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

and  cry.  Even  my  dear  dolls  do  not  seem  the  same 
to  me  after  that." 

Returning  to  the  midgets  in  their  cradles  and 
beds,  she  took  them  up,  one  by  one,  and  introduced 
them  to  me  with  great  solemnity,  giving  the  names 
of  each,  along  with  bits  of  personal  gossip. 

"  Which  is  the  eldest  ?"  I  asked,  to  show  my  inter- 
est, though  my  mind  was  wandering  far  from  the 
subject  under  consideration. 

"  Why,  the  largest,  of  course  !"  she  laughed,  tak- 
ing up  a  doll  half  as  big  as  herself. 

Brixton  declared  that  the  joke  was  on  me  that 
time.  Then  he  said  good-night  to  his  daughter, 
who  took  my  hand  again  in  the  same  frank  way  she 
had  grasped  it  when  introduced,  and  we  were  left 
alone. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  baby  in  this  house,  for 
Blanche  to  play  with,"  I  said,  unguardedly,  as  I 
stood  a  few  moments  later  with  my  overcoat  on  in 
the  front  hall. 

My  host  staggered  as  if  about  to  faint,  and  his 
face  paled. 

"  You  have  touched  upon  the  tragedy  of  my  life, 
my  friend,"  he  said,  in  a  very  low  tone.  "  Some 
day  I  mean  to  tell  you  its  history." 

I  wanted  to  say  something  in  the  nature  of  an 
apology,  but  could  not  exactly  frame  the  expres- 
sions. It  was  evident,  however,  that  he  did  not  feel 
the  need  of  anything  of  the  kind,  for  he  said  "  Good- 
night "  in  a  kindly  voice,  as  I  stepped  out  into  tho 
snow-laden  air. 


HOUSEKEEPING    UNDER   DIFFICULTIES.  25 


CHAPTER   III. 

HOUSEKEEPING    UNDER  DIFFICULTIES. 

When  I  thought  over  the  events  of  that  evening 
there  were  several  things  that  I  noted  particularly. 
Mr.  Brixton  had  but  one  member  of  his  family  upon 
whom  he  lavished  his  affection.  That  one,  Blanche, 
was  equally  restricted  in  her  love.  Neither  of  them 
had  alluded  in  the  remotest  manner  to  a  wife  or  a 
mother.  Mrs.  Brixton,  who  certainly  existed,  and 
who  as  certainly  was  an  occupant  of  that  residence, 
had  not  made  her  appearance  during  my  call.  And 
then  there  was  the  strange  remark  of  my  friend  as 
I  was  about  to  leave.  When  I  said  to  him  that 
there  ought  to  be  a  baby  in  the  house  for  Blanche 
to  love,  he  responded,  in  tones  that  indicated  the 
deepest  feeling,  that  I  had  touched  upon  "  the 
tragedy  of  his  life  !" 

"  Some  day,"  he  added,  "  I  mean  to  give  you  its 
history." 

The  history  of  a  personal  tragedy  must  be  a  most 
interesting  thing  to  hear.  The  story  of  a  marital 
estrangement  it  was  undoubtedly,  judging  by  the 
contemporary  evidence.  But  beyond  any  feeling  of 
curiosity,  I  felt  an  intense  longing  to  know  what  had 
made  my  friend  the  crushed  and  silent  man  I  had 
found  him — a  man  with  few  intimacies,  and  one 
whom  hardly  anyone  could  say  they  really  knew  or 
understood. 

The  promise   he   had  given  was  fulfilled,  though 


26  OUT    OF    AVKDLOCK. 

not  in  the  way  I  anticipated.  He  never  gave  me  a 
consecutive  account  of  his  troubles  in  anything  like 
the  form  I  am  going  to  give  them  to  you.  It  was 
by  one  conversation  after  another,  by  hearing  a 
little  to-day  and  more  to-morrow,  by  adding  what  I 
learned  from  others,  and  by  using  my  own  intel- 
ligence, that  I  fully  comprehended  at  last  what  had 
happened. 

It  was  not  a  "  tragedy  "  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
that  abused  word.  There  had  been  no  killing  in 
hot  blood,  no  quick  and  angry  blows.  But  to  him 
it  was  a  tragedy  just  the  same,  in  that  it  deadened 
the  best  of  his  being,  and  made  him  for  the  rest  of 
his  days  a  misanthrope.  Of  a  nature  naturally  open 
and  frank,  sunny  to  a  degree,  glad  to  walk  in  the 
brightness  of  all  things  human,  he  had  been  changed 
to  a  cynical  man  of  business,  whose  only  wholly 
unspoiled  side  was  the  one  turned  toward  his 
daughter. 

It  appears  that  he  was  born  in  the  village  of  Mark- 
ham,  in  the  western  part  of  the  State,  and  was  at  an 
early  age  left  a  half-orphan.  He  grew  up  with  the 
reputation  of  being  a  good  boy,  faithful  to  his 
mother,  reliable  and  trustworthy  to  the  utmost.  As 
the  family  had  little  in  the  way  of  property,  George 
obtained  employment,  as  soon  as  he  graduated  from 
the  grammar  school,  in  a  chemical  works. 

For  a  while  he  devoted  the  whole  of  his  small 
salary  to  his  mother,  who  lived  with  him  in  a  cottage 
she  had  inherited,  doing  her  own  work  and  caring 
for  nothing  but  her  boy.  By  the  time  he  had  reached 
his  twenty-fifth  year,  everybody  had  set  George 
Brixton  down  for  a  confirmed  bachelor.  He  never 


HOUSEKEEPING   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES.  27 

would  marry  as  long  as  his  mother  lived,  that  was 
certain. 

Their  household  was  a  most  methodical  affair. 
Mrs.  Brixton  was  one  of  those  women  who  have  an 
instinct  for  order.  She  had  a  place  for  everything, 
and  everything  was  always  in  its  place.  Her  break- 
fasts were  on  the  table  at  half-past  six  in  summer, 
and  seven  in  winter.  The  date  at  which  the  hour 
was  changed  was  taken  from  the  almanac,  coming  as 
regularly  as  the  astronomical  alterations.  She  had 
her  washing  done  on  Monday,  her  ironing  on  Tues- 
day, and  her  baking  on  Wednesday  and  Saturday 
as  regularly  as  those  days  arrived. 

On  a  certain  day  in  April,  Mrs.  Brixton  cleaned 
house.  On  a  certain  day  in  November  she  unpacked 
her  furs.  From  the  time  he  was  old  enough  to 
understand  anything,  George  knew  substantially 
what  each  day  in  the  year  would  bring  forth  in  that 
house.  He  fell  into  his  mother's  habits  as  easily  as 
he  fell  into  the  habits  of  breathing  and  walking. 
Indeed,  until  she  was  in  her  grave,  it  never  occurred 
to  him  that  any  house  could  be  much  differently 
arranged. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  quality  that  first  attracted  the 
attention  of  George's  employers  to  him,  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  his  improved  circumstances.  No  time 
was  ever  lost  in  Brixton's  department.  He  could 
answer  any  question  concerning  his  part  of  the 
building  without  delay  and  with  mathematical 
accuracy.  There  was  no  waste,  either  through  neg- 
ligence or  inadvertence.  In  every  drop  of  his  blood 
there  was  written  the  proverb,  "  Take  care  of  the 
small  things  and  the  large  ones  will  take  care  of 
themselves." 


28  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

"If  all  my  employes  were  like  Brixton,"  said  the 
manager  once,  "this  concern  would  clear  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year  more  than  it  now  does." 

With  this  carefulness  about  little  things,  with  his 
horror  of  leaks,  there  was  still  a  generous  vein  in 
this  young  man.  He  often  remained  for  hours 
after  work  was  over  to  teach  a  new  employe  to 
perform  his  duties  better.  If  from  those  who  were 
placed  under  him  he  exacted  the  fullest  obedience 
and  the  best  service,  he  was  ever  ready  to  praise 
work  well  performed.  Though  he  was  not  on  terms 
of  close  intimacy  with  anyone  at  the  factory,  not  a 
man  there  would  have  been  more  deeply  regretted 
had  anything  occurred  to  take  him  away. 

He  had  but  a  few  hours'  warning  of  his  mother's 
death.  When  he  found  himself  alone  he  was 
stunned  for  a  time.  For  some  months  he  refused  to 
allow  anyone  to  take  her  place.  He  cooked  his  own 
meals^  as  well  as  he  could,  rather  than  have  the 
culinary  articles  she  had  used  touched  by  other 
hands.  Then  he  dined  outside,  still  sleeping  in  the 
cottage,  and  spending  most  of  his  evenings  there — 
alone.  This  grew  monotonous,  and  people  began  to 
say  in  such  a  way  that  it  reached  his  ears  that  he 
ought  to  get  married. 

Get  married  !    Oh,  no  !     The  idea  was  too  strange, 

He  had  never  walked  home  even  from  church  or 
singing  school  with  any  woman  but  his  mother.  He 
had  never  seen  but  one  girl  that  he  would  have 
thought  of  in  such  a  connection,  were  it  possible  to 
think  of  anyone,  and  she  was  now  the  wife  of 
Stephen  Drew,  one  of  the  travelling  men  in  the 
employ  of  the  chemical  company  for  which  he 
worked.  When  people  grew  bold  enough  to  tell  him 


BtmSEKBEPTlCG   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES.  29 

to  his  face  that  he  ought  to  have  a  wife,  he  admitted 
in  his  heart  that  if  Ella  Drew  were  still  single  he 
might  have  asked  her.  This  was  as  far  as  he  could 

go- 
But  Ella  was  out  of  the  question,  and  the  life  he 

lived  was  becoming  unbearable.  He  thought  of 
engaging  a  housekeeper.  A  second  cousin  of  his 
father's  applied  for  the  situation,  and  during  the 
next  year  this  woman  superintended  his  home. 

On  the  whole  it  was  worse  than  boarding  out. 
Miss  Fillmore  was  not  at  all  like  his  mother.  Her 
bump  of  order  was  situated  in  a  cavity.  After  she 
had  been  three  days  in  the  house  George  could  not 
find  anything  he  wanted.  She  was  determined  to 
make  the  place  look  tidy,  and  to  secure  this  result 
she  put  things  away  in  places  no  one  else  would 
have  thought  of,  promptly  forgetting  where.  George 
fretted  over  this — mildly,  at  first — and  begged  her 
not  to  interfere  with  his  personal  property,  but  the 
fault  was  ingrained  in  her  nature.  Then,  meals  were 
served  with  astounding  irregularity.  Frequently 
he  had  to  "  snatch  a  bite,"  as  he  called  it,  and  hasten 
to  the  factory  at  high  speed,  because  the  articles  she 
was  cooking  were  not  "  quite  "  done, 

To  a  man  whose  life  had  been  regulated  by  the 
clock  these  things  were  extremely  annoying.  Miss 
Fillmore  showed,  when  remonstrated  with,  that  she 
considered  his  requests  unreasonable.  To  her,  a 
half-hour  either  way  in  a  meal  was  a  matter  of  no 
importance.  She  did  not  believe,  she  used  to  say, 
that  the  manager  would  discharge  him  if  he  were  a 
few  minutes  late  once  in  a  while.  And  if  George 
hunted  the  house,  from  garret  to  cellar,  for  some- 
thing he  had  left  on  the  table  in  his  experimenting 


3U  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

room  six  hours  previous,  Miss  Fillmore's  demeanor 
showed  that  she  did  not  appreciate  his  condition  of 
mind.  She  was  like  an  automatic  instrument  that 
continually  runs  behind. 

There  are  men  who  could  face  a  lion  with  firm 
nerves,  but  are  driven  distracted  by  the  continual 
buzzing  of  a  mosquito.  George  Brixton  was  one  of 
these  men.  He  spent  a  great  deal  of  time,  when  at 
home,  with  chemicals,  hoping  to  invent  something 
that  would  bring  him  a  revenue  greater  than  he 
could  expect  to  receive  as  a  mere  employe.  When 
he  found,  at  a  critical  moment,  that  an  important 
part  of  his  work  had  been  interfered  with,  his  tem- 
per was  sorely  tried.  Generally  it  seemed  too  small 
a  matter  to  get  into  a  rage  about  ;  and  besides,  it  was 
contrary  to  his  nature  to  show  anger  to  a  woman. 
No  matter  what  the  trouble  was,  he  always  saw 
something  of  his  venerated  mother  in  the  person  of 
any  member  of  her  sex. 

It  is  the  foxes,  the  little  foxes,  that  spoil  the  vines. 
When  a  certain  type  of  person  has  borne  all  he  can 
he  breaks  in  a  twinkling.  George  had  worked  late 
at  night  for  six  evenings  over  a  combination  of 
chemicals  from  which  he  had  great  hopes.  He  had 
told  Miss  Fillmore  several  times  each  day  that  she 
must  on  no  account  disturb  the  shelf  on  which  he 
had  placed  his  bottles.  At  the  last  moment  he  dis- 
covered that  she  had  done  the  mischief.  The  work 
of  a  week,  under  the  most  favorable  conditions,  had 
gone  for  naught. 

When  he  stepped  out  into  the  sitting-room  where 
his  housekeeper  was,  she  saw  an  unusual  commotion 
in  his  countenance. 


HOUSEKEEPING   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES.  31 

"  You  have  been  interfering  with  my  things 
again,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  only  straightened  them  up,"  she  answered, 
with  a  defiant  air.  "  It  is  not  possible  that  I  did 
any  harm,  and  the  shelf  had  to  be  dusted." 

He  could  not  trust  himself  to  reply,  but  that 
noon  he  took  all  the  materials  with  which  he  had 
worked  at  home,  and  carried  them  to  the  factory, 
where  he  began  again  the  work  that  had  been  inter- 
fered with. 

A  thousand  annoyances  followed,  however.  He 
could  not  spend  all  his  evenings  away  from  home, 
and  he  did  not  wish  to,  if  only  for  the  looks  of  the 
thing.  But,  if  he  stayed  in,  there  was  invariably 
something  to  ruffle  his  disposition.  It  was  his  cus- 
tom to  don  a  pair  of  slippers  after  tea,  take  his 
evening  paper  and  occupy  himself  with  it  for  an 
hour.  Now,  it  became  the  rule,  rather  than  tha 
exception,  that  when  he  got  ready  for  his  paper  it 
was  not  to  be  found.  Miss  Fillmore,  on  being 
appealed  to,  would  say  she  did  not  remember  seeing 
it,  and  doubted  if  it  had  been  delivered  ;  or  else 
that  she  might  have  put  it  into  the  stove  by  mistake, 
taking  it  for  an  old  one.  Sometimes  she  had 
wrapped  up  a  parcel  with  it,  to  give  a  messenger 
who  had  taken  it  away. 

Miss  Fillmore  believed  in  her  inmost  heart  that 
George  Brixton  made  a  fuss  about  such  things 
because  it  was  his  nature  to  find  fault.  The  price 
of  the  newspaper  was  two  cents,  and  to  her  mind 
that  represented  its  full  value.  She  did  not  stop  to 
think  that  there  were  no  others  for  sale  in  the  vib 
lage  and  that  an  hour's  time  was  spoiled.  When  he 
had  endured  this  as  long  as  he  could,  he  had  a  bo* 


32  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

made  with  a  lock  and  key,  in  which  the  carrier  put 
the  paper  securely  when  he  made  his  rounds. 

It  would  require  a  book  as  large  as  this  one 
merely  to  give  a  list  of  the  things  of  this  kind  that, 
as  Brixton  used  to  say,  "  tore  him  up  by  the  roots." 

When  anything  could  not  be  found  in  its  proper 
place — and  this  became  the  normal  condition  of  the 
establishment — Miss  Fillmore  had  a  stereotyped 
answer  that  drove  him  wild — "  I  will  hunt  for  it." 
The  shirts  sent  back  from  the  laundry  might  be  in 
the  parlor  or  the  pantry,  but  never  in  the  drawer 
where  they  belonged.  When,  after  a  prolonged 
search,  one  was  discovered,  no  cuff  or  collar  was 
ever  in  its  vicinity.  At  one  time  George  began  to 
think  he  could  find  his  things  by  looking  for  them 
in  the  place  most  unreasonable  to  conceive  of,  and 
occasionally  this  plan  served.  But  there  was  no 
rule  even  to  the  irregularities  of  the  house. 

A  case  that  will  illustrate  the  point  as  well  as  any 
was  his  night-dress. 

Last  night,  for  instance,  he  had  found  it  hanging 
under  a  lot  of  other  things  in  the  closet  of  his  bed- 
room. To-night  he  would  look  there  for  it,  though 
quite  certain  it  was  not  there,  and  he  was  right. 
After  a  hunt  he  would  find  it  rolled  in  a  wad  under 
one  of  the  pillows.  To-morrow  he  would  look  in 
the  closet,  then  under  the  pillows,  then  everywhere 
elie  he  could  think  of,  and  have  to  go  to  bed  with- 
out it.  In  the  morning  the  maiden  lady  who  was 
responsible  for  his  annoyance  would  remark  casually, 
as  he  watched  the  clock,  that  she  believed  she  must 
have  worn  it  herself,  though  she  could  not  see  how 
it  got  into  her  room.  Which  certainly  was  not 
amusing. 


HOUSEKEEPING   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES.  33 

When  he  had  stood  this  as  long  as  he  could, 
Brixton  put  an  end  to  it.  He  paid  Miss  Fillmore 
twice  as  much  as  he  had  agreed  to,  and  requested 
her  to  remove  from  his  domicile  forthwith.  All  he 
had  gained  by  her  presence  there  was  the  founda- 
tion of  an  irritable  temper,  such  as  he  had  never 
before  known,  and  her  everlasting  hatred. 

Going  back  to  cooking  his  own  meals  again,  for  he 
did  not  like  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  boarding- 
house  questionings,  George  thought  from  time  to 
tiine  of  the  only  remedy  that  seemed  sufficient  for 
his  case.  He  wanted  a  home — a  real  home.  It  was 
not  enough  to  see  the  familiar  walls,  the  same  pic- 
tures and  furniture,  the  same  lamp  on  the  table. 
He  wanted  a  home  that  would  in  some  measure  take 
the  place  of  the  one  he  had  lost.  He  wanted  it  with 
a  hunger  that  grew  fiercer  every  day  he  lived. 

Sitting  alone  at  night  he  took  a  mental  appraisal 
of  the  marriageable  young  women  in  Markham.  He 
thought  them  over  one  by  one,  and  rejected  them 
all  as  unsuitable.  He  must  go  farther  if  he  was  to 
take  a  wife.  But  where  ?  He  was  as  ignorant  as  a 
babe  of  everything  beyond  his  familiar  horizon. 

Suddenly  he  started  as  the  first  feasible  idea  came 
to  his  brain.  He  would  go  and  talk  with  Ella 
Drew  about  it.  Her  husband  was  absent  nearly  all 
the  time,  except  Sundays,  travelling  on  business. 
George  knew  Ella  better  than  he  knew  any  other 
person  in  the  world.  It  was  the  only  house  in 
Markham  at  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  calling. 

He  breathed  easier  as  the  conviction  grew  that 
she  would  be  able  to  advise  him.  Yes,  he  would 
talk  with  Ella  Drew. 


34:  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK, 

CHAPTER  IV. 

GEORGE   AND   EMMA. 

Brixton  had  known  Mrs.  Drew  when  she  was 
Ella  Smiley.  They  had  attended  school  together, 
though  she  was  in  the  primary  when  he  was  in  the 
grammar  .grade.  She  had  always  liked  him,  and 
while  she  was  superlatively  happy  with  her  husband, 
she  could  remember  when  she  had  stood  at  her  gate 
to  have  little  talks  with  George  as  he  came  past, 
wondering  if  he  would  ever  ask  her  to  marry  him. 
He  was  so  good,  and  so  kind,  such  a  pattern  of  all  a 
young  man  should  be  ! 

But  matters  turned  out  as  they  often  do — • 
George  was  wedded  to  his  mother,  and  Mr.  Drew 
began  to  make  love  to  her,  and  she  accepted  him. 
She  had  never  regretted  it,  not  for  one  of  those 
brief  instants  that  most  married  people  can  recall. 
And  now  there  was  another  reason  why  she  adored 
her  husband  and  watched  eagerly  for  his  step  when 
he  came  home  at  the  end  of  his  trips.  After  three 
years  of  disappointments,  both  of  them  were  filled 
with  joy,  for  Ella  was  to  become  a  mother. 

"  You  are  getting  terribly  sober,  George,"  she 
said  to  him,  when  he  made  the  call  he  had  decided 
upon,  the  one  at  which  he  meant  to  ask  her  opinion 
about  marriage.  She  was  as  frank  as  if  he  had  beetl 
her  brother.  "  It's  not  to  be  wondered  at,  either, 
alone  as  you  are  so  much  in  that  empty  house  of 
yours." 


GEORGE   AND   EMMA.  35 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied,  simply.  "  People  say-« 
that  I  —  ought  to  marry." 

Mrs.  Drew  eyed  him  searchingly.  Many  things 
passed  through  her  mind  in  the  few  seconds  that 
followed. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it  ?"  she  asked 
cautiously. 

'''  I  don't  know.  It  is  lonesome,  certainly.  I  want 
you  to  advise  me.  If  —  if  I  should  decide  that  I 
wanted  a  wife  —  I  don't  know  where  to  find  one. 
There's  nobody  left  in  Markham  that  isn't  already 
married  or  engaged." 

The  lady  nodded  to  show  that  she  agreed  with 
this  statement.  There  was  nobody  in  Markham 
good  enough  for  George  Brixton,  and  she  did  not 
know  as  there  was  outside  of  it,  either. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,"  she  said,  thoughtfully.  "You 
would  have  to  go  to  Springfield,  or  Worcester,  or 
Boston." 

To  Boston  !  What  a  very  long  distance  that 
seemed  ! 

"Have  you  thought  just  what  sort  of  a  girl  you 
would  like  ?"  continued  Mrs.  Drew,  still  lost  in  won- 
der at  the  unexpected  situation. 

Brixton  looked  at  the  speaker.  She  was  young 
and  fair,  with  a  tinge  of  rose  in  her  cheeks  ;  round, 
sweet  and  wholesome. 

"I  would  like  one,"  he  answered,  candidly,  "just 


At  this  Ella  turned  the  color  of  a  peony. 

"You  must  not  flatter  me,"  she  stammered. 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  answered,  quickly  ;  "  I  do  not  mean 
it  that  way.  I  was  thinking  about  it  last  night,  at 
my  house,  when  I  sat  there  alone  ;  and  I  remem- 


36  OTTT  OP  WEDLOCK. 

bered,  one  by  one,  all  the  Markham  girls  that  have 
married  during  the  last  five  or  ten  years  ;  and  I 
thought  you  were  the  nicest  of  them  all.  Yes, 
Ella,"  he  continued,  dropping  into  the  familiar  name 
by  which  he  had  always  called  her,  "  I  am  too  late 
far  Markham.  As  you  suggest,  I  should  have  to  go 
outside." 

She  would  have  liked  to  kiss  his  innocent,  honest 
face,  and  had  her  husband  been  there  she  was  sure 
she  would  have  done  it. 

"You  were  a  good  son,  George,"  she  said,  "and 
that  is  proof  that  you  would  be  a  good  husband.  If 
I  hear  of  anyone  that  I  think  you  would  like,  I  will 
let  you  know.  It  seems  so  odd,  though,  to  imagine 
you  married  !" 

There  was  something  that  he  wanted  to  ask  her, 
and  he  did  not  know  how  to  put  it  into  the  best 
form. 

"  It's  all  right — is  it  ?"  he  inquired,  lamely.  "  I 
mean — marriage  is  a  good  thing  ?  You  know  there's 
been  considerable  in  the  papers  about  its  being  a 
failure." 

She  looked  gravely  at  the  earnest  eyes. 
'•  I   have    found    it  heaven  !"  she  responded,  with 
reverence.     "There  must  be  some  grave  fault  where 
it  is  otherwise." 

George  Brixton  was  not  so  ignorant  but  that  he 
knew  of  Mrs.  Drew's  approaching  motherhood.  As 
she  uttered  that  statement  with  the  lovelight  in  her 
eyes,  and  the  smile  of  perfect  content  on  her  lips, 
she  seemed  more  angel  than  human.  As  he  walked 
home  he  resolved  that  he  would  marry,  that  he  would 
know  the  experiences  that  could  bring  such  hap- 
piness. He  entered  his  solitary  home,  the  walls  of 


GEORGE    AND    EMMA.  37 

which  had  never  seemed  quite  so  silent.  They  must 
echo  to  the  sound  of  a  new  voice,  they  must  feel  the 
glory  of  another  presence  ! 

Within  a  few  weeks  a  former  friend  of  Mrs. 
Drew's — a  young  lady  with  whom  she  had  spent  a 
year  at  boarding-school — came  to  make  her  a  visit. 
As  Brixton  passed  the  window  one  evening,  on  his 
way  home,  Ella  called  Miss  Walker's  attention  to 
him. 

"  There  is  a  man  in  a  thousand,"  she  said.  "  Do 
you  know  any  very  nice  girl  who  wants  a  husband  > 
I  have  promised  to  look  up  a  wife  for  him." 

Miss  Walker  had  had  her  experience — falling  des- 
perately in  love  two  years  before  with  a  young  man  of 
the  town  where  she  resided,  who,  after  the  wedding- 
day  was  set,  suddenly  disappeared  and  never  was 
heard  of  again.  For  some  time  she  took  a  violent 
dislike  to  all  the  male  sex,  and  was  heard  to  declare 
that  she  would  live  and  die  an  old  maid,  no  matter 
what  offers  she  had.  But  she  was  still  young — only 
twenty-three — and  this  story  interested  her. 

Before  long  Miss  Walker  obtained  an  introduction 
to  Mr.  Brixton.  Her  visit  to  Markham  lasted  more 
than  a  month,  and  when  she  returned  home  she  wrote 
to  Ella  Drew  that  they  were  engaged. 

"  You  are  not  to  mention  it  to  anyone,  for  the 
world,"  she  said.  "  It  is  to  be  kept  a-  secret  for  the 
present.  I  know  you  will  be  surprised,  and  I  feel  a 
little  that  way  myself.  I  had  determined  to  live 
single,  but  perhaps  I  shall  be  happier  in  the  married 
state.  You  can  talk  to  him  about  it,  but  to  no  one 
else,  mind,  until  I  give  you  leave." 

Mrs.  Drew,  to  put  it  mildly,  was  not  pleased  at 
this  news.  She  had  not  suspected  what  was  going 


38  OUT   OF   WKDLOCK. 

on,  and  women  do  not  fancy  being  humbugged  in 
such  matters.  George  was  so  slow  with  the  female 
sex  that  she  could  not  understand  how  he  had 
made  such  progress  after  knowing  Miss  Walker  but 
iour  weeks  altogether.  Emma  was  not  the  life- 
partner  she  would  have  picked  out  for  him,  and  yet. 
had  she  been  pressed  for  a  reason,  she  could  not 
have  told  you  why.  She  felt  piqued  at  not  being 
consulted  before  the  fatal  words  were  spoken.  But 
she  was  too  good  a  woman  to  let  these  thoughts 
mar  her  congratulations,  and  the  first  time  she  saw 
George  she  told  him  he  had  her  warmest  wishes  for 
a  happy  future. 

"  I  suppose  it  seems  rather  sudden  to  you,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  of  apology;  "but  during  the  lasC 
month  I  have  grown  so  lonesome  I  can  hardly  live. 
Then  I  knew  that  Emma — I  mean  Miss  Walker — 
was  a  dear  friend  of  yours,  and  that  was  commenda- 
tion enough  for  her.  We  are  only  to  wait  two 
months — is  that  too  soon  ?  She  said  September  was 
a  very  good  time  of  year." 

Mrs.  Drew  could  see  it  all  now.  Miss  Walker  had 
done  most'of  the  courting.  Certainly  George  would 
never  have  made  such  rapid  progress  with  a  less 
interested  girl.  Well,  it  might  turn  out  all  right. 
There  was  no  use  in  worrying  over  it.  But,  say  all 
she  could,  Emma  was  not  the  wife  Ella  would  have 
chosen  for  this  man. 

"  She  was  a  dear  friend  of  yours  !"  Sweet  and 
pathetic  reason.  How  dearly  she  hoped  he  would 
never  regret  the  step  !  As  for  Emma,  there  was  no 
question  that  the  marriage  was  a  good  one  for  her. 
There  were  few  men  like  George  Brixton. 

It  was  in  September,  the  month  she  had  selected, 


GEORGE   AND   EMMA.  39 

that  George  brought  his  young  wife  to  Markham, 
and  took  her  to  the  home  his  mother  had  made 
sacred  to  him.  She  was  to  take  the  place — and  more 
than  the  place — of  that  revered  parent. 

Mrs.  Brixton  the  second  was  naturally  a  quiet  girl. 
Previous  to  her  wedding  the  conversations  between 
the  lovers  had  been  of  extremely  limited  extent. 
On  his  part  everything  had  been  taken  for  granted. 
He  thought,  in  his  simple-mindedness,  that  the 
duties  of  wives  and  husbands  were  fixed  by  immut- 
able law.  He  had  heard,  to  be  sure,  of  cases  that 
did  not  come  up  to  the  proper  standard,  but  he 
believed  them  confined  to  a  lower  class  of  society, 
with  which  he  had  nothing  to  do.  He  weighed  the 
solemn  words  of  the  minister  before  whom  their 
vows  were  taken,  and  never  dreamed  that  there  could 
be  evasion  of  the  least  thing  that  was  spoken.  And 
there  were  other  things,  not  alluded  to,  established 
by  custom  so  clearly  that  to  repeat  them  would  be 
the  merest  nonsense.  Being  willing  to  give  to  his 
wife  all  he  was,  all  he  had,  all  he  could  make 
himself,  he  expected  the  same  in  return. 

The  concern  for  which  Brixton  worked  signalized 
the  occasion  of  his  marriage  by  adding  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year  to  his  salary.  It  rather  cooled  the 
delight  which  he  felt  when  he  went  home  with  this 
news  to  have  Emma  receive  it  with  the  announcement 
that  the  house  needed  quite  that  amount  to  make  it 
habitable,  in  the  way  of  furniture.  He  thought  his 
things  very  good — they  had  been  good  enough  for 
his  mother.  And  when  the  wife  added  that  the 
increase  in  salary  would  give  him  no  excuse  not  to 
employ  a  servant,  one  of  those  clouds  that  he  had 
thought  gone  forever  crossed  his  forehead. 


40  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Brixton  bought  the  furniture  desired  and  engaged 
the  servant,  for  he  had  no  intention  of  denying 
Emma  anything  he  could  afford  to  give  her  ;  but  he 
did  not  change  his  opinion  that  the  wife  might  have 
done  the  little  work  there  was  for  the  present,  with 
the  washings  and  ironings  sent  out.  He  had  am- 
bitions to  raise  himself  above  his  present  position. 
He  believed  a  few  thousand  dollars  would  enable 
him  to  realize  a  fortune  out  of  an  invention  in  the 
chemical  line  on  which  he  had  spent  his  leisure 
moments  for  years.  He  had  part  of  the  money 
already  saved,  and  the  increase  in  his  salary  had 
meant  a  hastening  of  the  day  when  he  would  have 
all  he  required  for  the  purpose. 

Still,  he  bought  the  things  and  hired  the  servant, 
as  I  have  said,  and  the  first  months  of  his  wedded 
life  were  not  wholly  devoid  of  happiness.  The 
cottage  was  brighter  for  the  presence  of  a  young 
woman  of  some  attractions,  and  the  meals — thanks 
mainly  to  the  servant — were  well  cooked  and  served 
en  time. 

Not  being  inclined  to  talkativeness,  the  new  hus- 
band did  not  mind  as  much  as  some  men  might  the 
constant  novel  reading  for  which  Mrs.  Brixton 
proved  herself  an  adept.  He  was  at  the  factory 
most  of  the  day,  and  at  night  it  was  just  as  well  to 
see  her  wrapped  in  a  book  as  anything  else,  while  he 
went  on  with  his  experiments,  now  conducted  with 
perfect  safety  at  home.  There  was  no  danger  that 
the  chemicals  would  be  misplaced,  for  dust  might 
have  accumulated  an  inch  deep  on  them  without 
attracting  his  wife's  attention.  It  was  rather  dis- 
appointing, sometimes,  to  note  the  languid  look 
with  which  she  met  his  delighted  cries  that  he  had 


GEORGE   AND   EMMA.  41 

made  a  successful  combination,  but  he  grew  used  to 
this.  She  was  not  to  blame  if  her  enthusiasm  did 
not  equal  his  in  a  field  of  which  she  knew  nothing. 

When  the  great  day  should  come,  and  he  could 
show  her  the  result  of  all  this  tiresome  detail,  she 
would  appreciate  it  then  !  In  the  meantime,  he 
could  afford  to  wait. 

There  was  another  thing  that  troubled  him  more, 
something  that  he  could  not  complain  of,  even  to 
her,  without  feeling  ashamed.  Mrs.  Brixton  had  a 
disinclination  for  the  physical  tokens  of  love, 
amounting  almost  to  aversion.  George  would  have 
hugged  a  different  woman  to  her  heart's  content, 
but  all  such  advances  were  received  in  a  manner  that 
made  him  timid. 

At  first  he  gave  Emma  a  kiss  when  he  left  the 
house  and  when  he  returned,  but  she  offered  him 
her  cheek  more  as  if  she  expected  a  blow  than  a 
caress.  If  she  was  reading — and  she  usually  was — 
he  often  had  to  speak  twice  before  she  answered 
his  remark. 

"Emma,  I  said  good-bye,"  he  would  repeat,  with 
his  hand  on  the  door-knob  ;  and  witfy  a  slight  start, 
as  of  one  who  would  rather  not  be  disturbed,  she 
would  say,  without  raising  her  eyes,  "  Oh,  yes  ; 
good-bye  ;  certainly." 

It  was  not  marriage  as  he  had  conceived  it. 
Earth  brings  nothing  so  sweet  as  the  first  months  of 
wedded  life  to  those  who  are  happily  mated.  This 
blissful  period  was  almost  wholly  lost  to  the  Brix- 
tons.  They  did  not  quarrel,  but  neither  was  there 
much  love-making.  There  was  no  pair  of  birds  in 
any  tree  in  Markham  that  could  not  have  set  them  a 
better  example. 


42  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

None  of  their  neighbors  noticed  anything — none 
but  Ella  Drew,  who  still  had  this  marriage  on  her 
conscience  and  whose  eyes  were  watchful.  She 
knew  things  were  not  exactly  right,  though  she  did 
not  understand  just  how  they  were. 

George  took  his  wife  to  church,  as  do  al  self-re- 
specting people  in  small  towns,  whether  they  have 
any  interest  in  the  doctrines  preached  or  not.  They 
also  went  to  some  of  the  parish  meetings,  and 
occasionally  to  entertainments  of  other  kinds.  When 
the  weather  was  fine  they  walked  together  in  the 
evening.  George  had  always  been  a  man  of  sober 
mien,  and  the  absence  of  a  smile  on  his  face  did  not 
surprise  his  fellow-townsme-n.  Mrs.  Drew  alone 
noticed  that  there  was  a  new  expression  there — one 
she  did  not  like  to  see.  She  was  the  more  sorry 
because  she  had  such  an  ideal  married  life  of  her 
own,  and  was  now  the  mother  of  a  beautiful  little 
girl  that  looked  like  its  proud  papa. 

"Something  is  the  matter  with  George  and 
Emma,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  wish  I  could  help 
them.  Ah  !  there  is  one  thing  that  would  bring 
them  completely  together,"  she  added,  with  a  ma- 
tronly blush.  "If  they  ever  get  a  beam  of  sunshine 
in  the  house  like  my  little  Mamie,  it  will  end  all 
their  differences  !" 


"  TELL    ME    YOU   LOVE    HIM  !'*  43 


CHAPTER    V. 

"  TELL    ME    YOU    LOVE    HIM  !" 

But  there  was  not  likely  to  be  any  such  beam  of 
sunshine  as  baby  Mamie  in  the  home  of  the  Brixtons. 
There  are  people  who  say  that  sun  fades  the  carpets,  as 
no  doubt  it  does,  and  who  take  particular  pains  that 
it  shall  never  shine  in  at  their  windows.  There  are 
many  houses  in  America  where  shades  are  kept 
closed  tightly  and  blinds  pulled  down,  from  January 
to  December,  lest  a  little  of  God's  purest  and  sweet- 
est light  should  penetrate  and  make  its  presence 
known.  Thanks  to  Emma  Brixton,  her  house  was 
one  of  these. 

"  Mamie  is  looking  finely,"  said  Emma  to  Mrs. 
Drew,  one  day  in  the  spring  that  followed.  "  I  see 
she  is  beginning  to  creep  already." 

The  fond  mother  gazed  with  pride  at  her  offspring, 
sprawling  in  lovely  helplessness  on  the  floor  of  her 
sitting-room. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  don't  see  how 
we  ever  got  along  without  her.  A  home  with  no 
baby  seems  to  me  now  just  no  home  at  all.  That  is 
what  you  want,  Emma,  to  make  your  house  per- 
fect." 

Mrs.  Brixton  shook  her  head  with  decision. 

"  Never  !"  she  said.  "  If  I  had  had  any  fear  of 
that,  I  should  not  have  married." 

Mrs.  Drew  recoiled.     She  felt  danger  of  contamia 
ation  from  one  who  uttered  such  blasphemy. 


44  OFT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

"You  can't  imagine  how  awful  your  words 
sound!"  she  replied.  "  Marriage,  with  no  children, 
and  no  hope  of  any  !  It  would  be  like  a  desolate 
orchard,  with  neither  shade  nor  fruit.  'Besides,"  she 
added,  impressively,  "  George  is  remarkably  fond  of 
children." 

"  Let  him  have  them,  then  !"  said  Mrs.  Brixton, 
with  a  sarcastic  smile.  "  /  never  shall,  I  assure  you. 
There,  it  is  useless  to  discuss  the  matter.  My  mind 
is  wholly  made  up." 

The  young  mother  felt  her  lip  beginning  to 
tremble. 

"  Does — does  he — know  ?"  she  faltered. 

"  Why,  of  course  not.  I'm  not  a  goose,  I  hope  ! 
I  don't  see  as  it's  any  of  his  business." 

After  her  visitor  had  gone  Mrs.  Drew  cried  for 
an  hour.  She  was  so  sorry  for  George  !  She  had 
said  to  herself  a  hundred  times,  "  When  the  baby 
comes,  that  will  make  everything  right."  With 
never  a  child  to  bring  their  hearts  together,  there 
would  be  no  real  happiness  for  this  couple.  At  tea- 
time,  when  Brixton  passed  on  his  way  home,  he 
smiled  to  see  her  at  the  window  with  Mamie  in  her 
lap,  and  threw  the  cherub  a  kiss  that  spoke  volumes. 
How  unjust  life  was  to  some  of  the  best  men  ! 
What  had  this  poor  fellow  done  to  be  condemned  to 
such  a  marriage?  No  children!  A  deliberate, 
preconceived  determination  never  to  be  a  mother  ! 
Horrible  !  Surely  God  would  punish  in  some  fear- 
ful manner  such  a  wicked  woman  ! 

On  the  first  of  July  Brixton  came  home  with  a 
brighter  look.  He  told  his  wife  that  his  salary  had 
been  raised  again — that  it  was  now  to  be  $2,000  a 
yean  He  explained  to  her,  in  the  fullness  of  his  joy, 


"  TELL   ME   YOU    LOVE   HIM  !"  45 

what  plans  he  had  made,  talked  of  the  hope  he  had 
nursed  so  long.  If  he  could  save  a  third  of  this 
salary  for  three  years  more,  with  what  he  already 
had,  he  would  feel  justified  in  embarking  in  his 
venture.  And  it  would  bring  him — he  felt  sure — a 
handsome  income,  and  independence  by-ancl-by,  a 
time  when  he  could  retire  from  work  altogether  and 
spend  the  rest  of  his  days  in  peace  and  comfort. 

He  talked  so  fast  at  first  that  he  did  not  notice 
how  little  she  seemed  to  appreciate  the  importance 
of  his  communication. 

"  You  know  I  have  never  liked  this  house,"  she 
said,  when  he  paused  for  breath.  "I  think  the  first 
thing  you  should  do  is  to  build  or  buy  a  better  one. 
And  there  are  many  things  we  need  that  are  more 
important  than  trying  speculations,  and  perhaps 
losing  it  all.  I  have  not  said  much,  because  I  don't 
like  to  keep  asking,  but  my  clothes  are  in  a  terrible 
condition,  and — " 

In  one  second  he  saw  the  truth.  She  was  selfish 
to  the  core  !  She  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  him 
or  to  his  welfare.  In  all  her  thoughts  he  took  a 
secondary  place.  He  recalled  a  thousand  evidences 
of  her  carelessness  for  his  wishes.  His  anger  was 
too  great  to  allow  him  to  utter  a  word,  but  he  strode 
from  the  house  and  did  not  return  till  late. 

That  night  there  was  the  widest  possible  distance 
between  them  in  their  nuptial  bed.  Once  when  she 
touched  his  shoulder  accidentally  in  a  dream,  he 
recoiled  instinctively.  He  was  like  one  chained  to 
a  fellow-prisoner  whom  he  abominably  detests.  In 
the  morning  he  arose  at  an  unusual  hour  and  made 
himself  a  cup  of  coffee,  after  which  he  went  out. 
When  Emma  heard  that  he  had  gone  it  did  not  dis* 


46  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

turb  her  in  the  least.  She  merely  settled  herself  into 
a  comfortable  position  and  took  another  nap. 

He  came  home  to  dinner  and  to  tea,  but  he  said 
nothing  to  his  wife  in  any  form,  nor  did  she  speak 
to  him.  After  tea  he  went  to  his  office  and  remained 
till  eleven  o'clock.  This  arrangement  he  practiced 
for  the  next  week  without  finding  that  Emma 
objected.  He  had  an  idea  that  she  might  express 
her  regret  at  what  had  occurred  and  promise 
amendment  in  future  ;  but  the  fact  was  that  she  con- 
sidered the  injury  all  on  his  side.  The  novels  she 
read  were  sufficient  to  console  her.  If  he  came 
home  before  ten  he  found  her  reading  ;  if  after  that 
hour  she  was  asleep.  She  did  not  act  in  a  surly 
manner,  but  exactly  as  if  she  did  not  care  what  he 
did,  one  way  or  the  other. 

These  things  wore  on  Brixton  more  than  he  was 
willing  to  admit.  He  thought,  with  a  sigh,  that  he 
now  had  even  less  of  a  home  than  before  he  married. 
The  presence  of  one  in  the  house  with  whom  he  was 
on  disagreeable  terms  was  worse  than  solitude. 

He  had  not  by  nature  a  vindictive  disposition,  and 
the  violence  of  his  anger  abated  somewhat,  but  he 
cherished  sentiments  toward  his  wife  the  reverse  of 
affectionate.  Why  had  she  married  him  ?  She  had  a 
home  with  her  step-father.  Why  had  she  cared  to 
change  it  for  his  ?  It  was  clear  that  she  had  not 
loved  him,  even  at  the  beginning.  He  recalled  her 
attitude  at  the  threshold  of  their  married  life,  that 
of  submitting  to  the  inevitable  rather  than  of  finding 
the  happy  haven  she  had  sought.  The  more  he 
thought  the  more  puzzled  he  became.  He' wished 
there  was  someone  to  whom  he  could  go  for  infor- 
mation. 


"  TELL   ME   YOU    LOVE    HIM  !"  4:7 

There  was  no  one  but  Ella  Drew,  and  he  did  not 
want  her  to  know  of  his  dilemma.  But  how  long 
was  this  to  last  ?  He  was  less  than  thirty  years  of 
age.  He  might  live  to  be  ninety.  Would  that 
woman  sit  there,  opposite  to  him,  all  those  years,  as 
sphynx-like  as  she  was  to-day  ?  Would  she  insist  on 
calling  herself  his  wife  and  render  him  none  of  the 
grace  and  sweetness  of  that  position  ? 

The  most  aggravating  thing  of  the  whole  matter 
was  that  the  troubles  came  about  such  insignificant 
things.  He  thought  how  silly  it  would  seem  to 
another  person.  And  yet  it  was  killing  all  that  was 
best  in  him. 

Though  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brixton  continued  to  livb 
under  the  same  roof,  and  there  was  no  rupture  that 
the  public  knew  of,  marital  relations  ceased  between 
them.  One  cannot  clasp  to  his  heart  a  woman  with 
whom  he  is  on  terms  of  open  warfare. 

Mrs.  Drew  had  never  been  to  his  house  since  that 
conversation  with  his  wife,  in  which  the  cool  deter- 
mination to  remain  childless  was  announced  ;  though 
Mrs.  Brixton  had  called  on  her  occasionally,  hardly 
seeming  to  notice  that  she  was  received  with  less 
warmth  than  formerly.  Ella  did  not  mean  to  quarrel 
with  Emma — her  manner  toward  her  was  the  result 
of  instinctive  aversion  that  she  could  not  in  the  least 
control.  Meeting  George  in  the  street  one  evening, 
on  his  way  back  to  his  office,  she  stopped  to  ask 
about  his  health. 

"  I  never  saw  you  looking  so  badly,"  she  said. 
"You  should  go  on  a  vacation.  Why  don't  you 
take  Emma  to  Boston  or  New  York  for  a  week?" 

Then,  all  at  once,  it  came  out  : 

"  If  I  went,  I  should  not  take  her  /"  he  snapped. 


48  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Mrs.  Drew's  face  was  very  grave. 
"  What  is  the  trouble,  George  ?"  she  asked, 
"Everything!"    said     Brixton,     gloomily.      "We 
should  never  have  married.     Everything  is  wrong — 
everything." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  puzzled  way.  Could  he 
have  learned  the  secret  that  Emma  had  told  her? 

"  Won't  you  explain  a  little?"  she  asked.  "  Your 
wife  comes  in  occasionally,  and  she  never  speaks  of 
an  estrangement.  She  has  said  nothing  to  show  that 
she  is  unhappy." 

"  Oh,  no.  She  is  happy  enough  !"  he  answered, 
quickly. 

Mrs.  Drew  murmured  that  she  did  not  under- 
stand. 

"  And  you  are  looking  so  very  ill,"  she  added. 
"You  positively  should  consult  a  physician." 

Brixton  looked  her  full  in  the  eyes. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  say  a  word,"  he  said.  "  Now 
that  it  is  out,  let  me  tell  you  this  :  If  I  live  with 
her  a  year  longer  it  will  kill  me  !" 

The  lady  uttered  a  profound  sigh. 

"You  do  not  love  her  ?"  she  asked. 

"  /  hate  her .'" 

She  could  draw  nothing  more  out  of  him.  But 
the  next  day  she  made  herself  a  committee  of  one 
and  called  on  Mrs.  Brixton  for  a  decided  talk. 

Emma  told  her  old  friend  that  there  had  been  no 
special  friction  that  she  knew  of.  George  was  a 
peculiar  fellow,  who  made  a  great  deal  of  trifles  ; 
but  she  thought  he  was  improving  a  little  in  that 
respect  as  time  went  on.  He  did  not  spend  many  of 
his  evenings  at  home,  but  this  was  on  account  of 


MR.    BRIXTON    UNDERSTANDS.  49 

things  he  had  to  do  at  the  office,  and  as  she  went 
early  to  bed  she  did  not  mind  it. 

"  But  you  love  him,  don't  you  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Drew, 
feverishly.  "  He  is  your  husband.  Tell  me  that 
you  love  him  !" 

"  Love  him  ?"  repeated  Mrs.  Brixton,  slowly.  "I 
like  him  well  enough,  when  he  is  not  ill-tempered." 

Mrs.  Drew  threw  up  both  hands  with  a  gesture  of 
despair. 

"You  have  only  been  married  a  year,  Emma  !" 
she  cried.  "You  and  George  ought  to  love  each 
other  with  all  the  passionate  devotion  conceivable  ! 
When  he  comes  in  to-night  put  your  arms  around 
his  neck  and  kiss  him  on  the  lips  !  You  are  losing 
the  best  gift  that  God  gives  to  a  woman  when  you 
allow  the  slightest  cloud  to  come  between  you  and 
your  husband  !" 

Mrs.  Brixton  smiled  at  her  friend's  enthusiasm. 

"I  don't  think  I  understand  that  kind  of  love," 
she  replied,  thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MR.    BRIXTON    UNDERSTANDS. 

Although  Mrs.  Brixton  was  not  very  impression- 
able, the  talk  that  Ella  had  with  her  produced  a 
certain  effect.  George  noticed  a  difference  in  her 
manner  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  house.  He  was 
more  than  willing  to  forget  all  that  had  passed 
if  he  could  hope  for  a  change  in  the  future,  and  he 


50  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

began  to  talk  to  Emma  in  the  old  way.  His  pleas- 
ure  was  great  when  he  saw  that  she  showed  an 
interest  in  what  he  had  to  tell,  and  instead  of 
returning  to  his  office  that  evening  he  remained  at 
home.  When  Emma  retired  for  the  night  he  gave 
her  the  first  kiss  she  had  received  from  him  in 
months.  Had  he  not  been  a  little  ashamed  and 
afraid,  he  would  have  accompanied  her  to  her  room 
instead  of  going  in  a  very  lonely  mood  to  his  own. 

The  next  day  he  thought  the  matter  over  a  great 
deal,  and  resolved  that  he  would  never  get  into 
another  such  quarrel,  no  matter  what  the  provoca- 
tion. He  had  passed  through,  an  experience  that 
was  simply  horrible.  To  find  daylight  again  he  was 
willing  to  make  almost  ^ny  sacrifice.  Within  a 
week  he  had  improved  so  v.  uch  in  appearance  that 
people  began  to  mention  it  in  the  way  of  congratu- 
lations. Mrs.  Drew  was  one  of  these,  and  no  person 
in  Markham  could  have  been  more  pleased. 

"Things  are  better,  I  am  sure,"  she  said  to  him 
brightly,  coming  to  the  gate,  as  he  was  going  by. 
"  Oli,  George,  I  am  so  glad  !" 

He  admitted  that  things  were  better.  His  home, 
he  reflected,  was  far  from  the  ideal  ;  but  it  was  better 
— it  was  endurable,  and  we  judge  things  largely  by 
their  contrast  with  what  we  have  passed  through. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brixton  became  man  and  wife 
again.  George  kissed  Emma  whenever  he  left 
the  house,  and  sometimes — not  always — when  he 
return^  1.  He  did  not  like  to  have  her  think  he 
was  overdoing  it.  He  knew  he  had  never  really 
been  .n  love,  but  he  had  ceased  to  hate  his  wife. 
And  this  was  certainly  a  very  great  gain. 

On  the  first  of  January  the  chemical  concern  sur- 


MB.    BBIXTON   UNDERSTANDS.  51 

prised  Brixton  by  offering  him  a  much  better  posi- 
tion, if  lie  would  go  to  New  York.  He  had  never 
thought  of  living  anywhere  except  in  his  native 
town,  and  the  world  seemed  very  wide  when  its 
doors  were  thus  suddenly  opened.  The  additional 
salary  was  certainly  an  inducement,  for  it  made  him 
hope  again  that  something  might  be  saved  out  of  it 
toward  the  fund  he  longed  to  accumulate. 

He  wanted  to  please  Emma,  and  he  had  no  idea 
how  she  would  like  such  a  change.  That  evening  he 
talked  with  her  about  the  city,  intending  to  learn  her 
views  upon  that  matter  before  he  told  her  of  the 
offer  that  had  been  made  him. 

It  took  but  a  minute  to  discover  that  she  would 
be  very  glad  to  move. 

"  Don't  you  like  Markham  ?"  asked  George,  with  a 
tinge  of  regret  in  his  tone. 

Personally  he  thought  it  the  finest  spot  in  the  uni- 
verse ;  but  then,  it  was  about  the  only  one  he  had 
seen. 

"  I  should  like  New  York  much  better,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "  But  there  is  little  use  in  talking  about  it, 
for  I  suppose  we  never  shall  go  there." 

When  she  heard  that  they  could  go — that  he  would 
go,  if  she  wished  it — there  was  an  hour  that  came 
very  near  being  filled  with  happiness.  George  was 
elated  beyond  measure.  There  was  no  question 
about  it  now  ;  he  would  write  to  his  employers  that 
he  would  take  the  place  and  come  as  soon  as  he 
could  make  arrangements.  In  a  new  location,  he 
thought,  with  a  bounding  heart,  perhaps  Emma  and 
he  could  make  another  beginning  under  better 
auspices.  The  great  hope  of  his  life  was  a  real,  true 


52  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

marriage  existence.  It  was  not  too  late,  yet,  for  his 
wife  to  redeem  herself. 

In  all  Markham  there  was  no  one  to  whom  he 
bade  good-bye  with  deep  regret  except  Ella  Drew. 
She  was  so  sorry  to  have  him  go  that  he  was  deeply 
touched.  He  could  see  the  struggle  to  hide  her 
feelings,  forcing  her  eyes«and  lips  to  tell  how  glad 
she  was  at  his  success,  and  how  certain  that  he 
would  get  along  splendidly  in  his  new  location. 
She  held  Mamie  up  for  him  to  kiss,  and  her  lashes 
grew  wet  in  spite  of  herself,  as  she  noticed  the  ten- 
der way  in  which  he  caressed  the  infant. 

"You  must  come  and  see  us  when  we  get  settled,'" 
he  said.  "  We  shall  not  keep  house  at  first,  but 
that  will  make  no  difference.  And  you  will  write 
often,  won't  you  ?  We  shall  want  to  hear  the  Mark- 
ham  news.  Stephen  will  see  us,  and  tell  you  how 
we  are." 

During  the  next  three  years  the  Brixtons  boarded 
at  various  places  on  the  west  side,  between  Twenty- 
sixth  and  Fortieth  Streets.  As  far  as  business  suc- 
cess was  concerned  it  came  faster  than  George 
had  anticipated,  but  his  home  affairs  never  were 
tranquil  for  long  at  a  time.  There  were  periods 
when  he  became  so  out  of  patience  with  Emma  that 
he  thought  seriously  of  running  away  and  never  see- 
ing her  or  anyone  else  he  knew  again.  To  offset 
these,  there  were  times  when  he  grew  almost  fond 
of  her,  though  these  were  much  briefer  than  the 
others. 

The  wife's  indifference  was  usually  so  great  that 
it  nearly  maddened  him.  If  she  had  disgraced  him 
in  a  way  that  he  could  take  cognizance  of — if  she 
had  thrown  kisses  to  men  out  of  her  window,  for 


MR.    BRIXTON    UNDERSTANDS.  53 

instance — he  would  have  known  just  what  to  do. 
But  the  everlasting  coldness — the  eternal  requests  to 
be  let  alone — the  disinclination  to  be  interrupted  in 
the  reading  of  the  interminable  novels  that  she  still 
affected — these  were  the  things  that  darkened  his 
life  until  at  times  he  did  not  care  how  soon  it  ended. 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  for  which  he  never 
ceased  to  hope  and  pray — a  child  of  his  own. 

"  How  strange  it  is  that  we  have  been  married 
almost  five  years  and  never  had  a  little  one  !  "  he 
used  to  muse,  when  he  met  the  perambulators  in  the 
street  with  their  cherub  occupants.  "If  there  was 
a  baby  in  my  home  I  could  forget  all  other  disap- 
pointments in  the  joy  of  that  acquisition  !" 

Stephen  Drew  used  to  see  him  frequently  at  the 
office,  and  always  brought  some  message  from  Ella. 
During  the  second  year  another  child  came  to  the 
Drew's,  but  when  it  was  just  beginning  to  lisp  the 
names  of  "  papa,"  and  "  mamma,"  an  epidemic  car- 
ried the  elder  one  away.  Up  to  this  time  Ella  had 
never  accepted  the  invitation  to  visit  the  Brixtons. 
But  when  she  recovered  partially  from  the  illness 
into  which  this  loss  threw  her,  and  the  local  physi- 
cian ordered  her  to  take  a  complete  change  and  rest, 
she  made  the  trip  to  New  York,  leaving  the  new 
baby,  Minnie,  at  Markham. 

Mrs.  Brixton  had  always  liked  Mrs.  Drew,  though 
they  were  so  dissimilar  in  their  tastes  and  habits, 
and  she  made  her  very  welcome.  As  for  George,  she 
seemed  to  him  a  particularly  bright  angel,  sent 
direct  from  the  celestial  spheres 

In  her  mourning  garments  she  was  the  picture  of 
woe.  The  loss  she  had  suffered  was  evidently  a 
severe  one  to  her.  George  pitied  her  from  the  hot- 


54:  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

torn  of  his  heart,  but  he  said  little  on  the  subjec.. 
He  knew  that  sorrow  is  often  doubled  by  a  thought- 
less display  of  too  much  sympathy. 

The  lack  of  a  child  in  his  own  home  was  alluded 
to  several  times  by  Mr.  Brixton,  in  his  talks  with  his 
guest.  He  was  still  as  anxious  as  ever  about  it,  and 
Ella's  blood  boiled  as  she  thought  of  the  imposition 
being  practiced  upon  him.  She  tried  again  and 
again  to  impress  Mrs.  Brixton  with  the  falseness  of 
her  position,  but  to  no  purpose. 

A  child  ?  She?  No,  indeed  I  The  thought  nearly 
drove  her  into  spasms  ! 

Mrs.  Drew  recovered  so  slowly  that  her  husband 
decided  that  she  ought  not  to  return  to  Markham  at 
present.  The  associations  of  their  home  were  too 
closely  allied  with  the  baby's  illness  and  death  for 
her  drooping  spirits.  So  Baby  Minnie  was  sent  for, 
and  rooms  engaged  in  the  house  where  the  Brixtons 
boarded.  A  few  weeks  later  this  resulted  in  a  propo- 
sition on  Brixton's  part  to  set  up  housekeeping 
where  his  friends  could  have  ample  accommodation  as 
long  as  they  chose  to  remain  in  the  city.  His  salary 
was  now  $4,000  and  his  prospects  of  an  increased 
revenue  from  his  discoveries  were  of  the  brightest 
kind.  He  was  tired  of  boarding,  and  with  the 
Drews  in  the  house  he  thought  the  change  a  most 
desirable  one  to  make. 

As  for  Emma,  she  did  not  care.  He  agreed  to  get 
her  a  housekeeper  who  would  relieve  her  of  all 
responsibility.  The  house  was  engaged,  furnished 
mainly  under  Mrs.  Drew's  direction,  and  the  occu- 
pants moved  in. 

The  family  lived  in  Bohemian  fashion.  Mr.  Drew 
was  gone,  on  account  of  his  business,  a  large  share 


MR.    BRIXTON   UNDERSTANDS.  55 

of  the  time.  Mrs.  Brixton  spent  a  good  many  even- 
ings out,  but  rarely  mentioned  that  she  was  going 
until  she  had  her  wraps  on. 

"  You  will  have  Ella  to  entertain  you,"  she  would 
remark  to  her  husband,  at  the  door. 

Meals  were  served,  almost  literally,  "at  all  hours." 
Emma  rose  a  long  time  after  George  had  gone  to  his 
office.  It  was  not  much  like  her  own  marriage,  Mrs. 
Drew  thought  often,  with  a  sigh. 

"  How  different  this  house  would  be  if  we  only 
had  a  baby  !"  Brixton  exclaimed,  one  evening,  when 
they  had  lived  in  this  manner  the  larger  part  of  a 
year.  He  and  Mrs.  Drew  were  sitting  alone.  "  I 
don't  believe  a  man  ever  lived  who  more  ardently 
desired  children  !"  he  added,  with  a  gasp.  "  Some- 
times I  have  thought  of  adopting  a  waif,  but  that 
would  not  fill  the  awful  void  in  my  heart.  I  want  a 
child  of  my  own  !  Good  God  !"  he  cried,  the  tears 
standing  to  the  full  in  his  eyes.  "  Why  is  it  denied 
me  !" 

The  perspiration  stood  on  his  forehead  in  beads 
as  he  uttered  this  despairing  wail.  Woman  to  the 
core,  Ella  Drew  felt  the  full  force  of  his  intensity. 

"  There  are  women  who  have  more  children  than 
they  desire,"  pursued  Brixton,  when  he  had  partially 
recovered  his  equanimity.  "  And  there  are  others 
who  cannot  have  them,  no  matter  how  ardently  they 
wish  it.  Heaven  is  very  uneven  in  distributing  its 
blessings.  I  do  not  see  how  the  priests  can  claim 
that  God  is  a  beneficent  being." 

Shocked  at  what  sounded  to  her  like  blasphemy, 
Mrs.  Drew  rose  to  leave  the  room.  As  she  passed 
the  chamber  that  Mrs.  Brixton  was  accustomed  to 
occupy  she  saw  that  the  door  stood  wide  open.  Th« 


56  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

pity  so  strongly  aroused  for  the  husband  overcame 
her  completely.  With  the  step  of  a  sleepwalker  she 
entered  the  room  and  took  something  from  the 
bureau.  Then  she  walked  slowly  back  to  the  parlor 
where  Mr.  Brixton  was  still  sitting,  with  his  head 
buried  in  his  hands. 

"Before  you  condemn  your  Maker"  she  said,  in  a 
trembling  voice,  "  examine  this  !" 

Raising  his  head  he  looked  at  the  package  she 
laid  on  the  table  before  him.  He  realized  from 
Ella's  excited  manner  that  something  unusual  was 
agitating  her.  Lifting  the  package  to  his  nostrils 
he  inhaled  slowly.  He  was  a  chemist,  and  when  he 
turned  his  gaze  again  upon  his  companion  he  uttered 
the  word,  "  Poison  /" 

"Where  did  you  find  this?"  he  added,  brusquely. 
"  Do  not  equivocate  !  Answer  at  once  !" 

Already  frightened  at  what  she  had  done,  Mrs. 
Drew  shut  her  pale  lips  tightly  together. 

"  You  got  that  in  Mrs.  Brixton's  room,"  he  said, 
with  a  wild  look.  "  What  could  she  have  bought 
it  for — suicide  ?" 

"No.     Murder!" 

The  words  had  escaped  her  lips,  uttered  by  an 
impulse  she  could  not  resist. 

He  stared  at  her  with  dilated  eyes.  All  his  cus- 
tomary courtesy  vanished. 

"  Give  it  back  to  me  !"  she  cried,  starting  up  sud- 
denly. "  Give  it  back  to  me  !  I  was  mad  to  touch 
it !  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  doing  !  Please,  oh  I 
please,  give  it  back  !" 

"  I  will,"  he  answered,  severely,  "  when  I  have 
examined  further  into  its  nature,  and  have  learned 
for  what  use  it  was  intended.  Why  did  you  bring 


AMONG   THE    ADIRONDACKS.  57 

it  to  me,  if  you  intended  to  surround  it  with  all  this 
mystery  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  made  an  awful  mistake  !"  she  cried, 
weeping  hysterically.  "  If  you  value  your  peace  of 
mind  in  this  life — your  hope  of  Heaven — give  it 
back  to  me  !" 

His  only  answer  was  to  motion  her  rudely  to  leave 
the  room.  Then  he  went  to  the  place  where  his 
chemicals  were  kept. 

It  was  hours  later  when  he  finished  his  investiga- 
tion, but  the  truth  dawned  upon  him  at  last  ! 

When  Ella  Drew  met  Brixton  at  breakfast  the 
next  morning  she  saw  that  she  could  tell  him  noth- 
ing. He  had  the  look  of  a  wild  animal  that  has 
scented  its  prey  and  means  to  fojlow  it  with  stealthy 
step  till  it  is  brought  to  earth ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AMONG    THE    ADIRONDACKS. 

Each  day  now  made  Ella  Drew  more  uncomfort- 
able. While  she  could  never  bring  herself  to  reopen 
the  subject  with  Mr.  Brixton  it  always  stood  between 
them,  like  the  ghost  of  Banquo. 

Mr.  Drew,  who  was  a  comfortable,  good-natured 
fellow,  had  but  one  creed  in  the  world,  which  was 
that  his  wife  was  the  best  and  wisest  woman  living. 
When  she  told  him  that  she  thought  a  change  would 
do  her  good  and  that  she  would  like  to  return  to 
Markham  for  awhile,  he  acquiesced  without  demur, 


58  OCX    OF    WEDLOCK. 

and  made  the  few  preparations  necessary  to  carry 
out  that  end.  The  family  furniture  had  been  left  in 
the  homestead  and  there  was  little  to  do  but  to 
proceed  thither,  engage  the  services  of  a  maid-of-all- 
work  and  enter  into  possession.  Accordingly  Mr. 
Drew,  Mrs.  Drew  and  Miss  Minnie  Drew,  now  nearly 
two  years  of  age,  announced  to  the  Brixtons  that 
they  were  going  home  for  the  present.  And  the 
Brixtons,  with  the  same  politeness  that  had  made 
them  welcome,  permitted  them  to  do  as  they  pleased 
about  severing  the  slight  cord  that  bound  the  fam- 
ilies together. 

Mrs.  Drew  meant  to  talk  to  Brixton  before  leaving 
his  house,  but  he  studiously  avoided  giving  her  an 
opportunity  to  be  with  him  alone.  He  suspected 
what  she  had  in  mind  and  did  not  wish  to  debate  the 
question  with  her.  Ella  had  moments  of  alarm  when 
she  thought  of  what  he  had  learned,  and  feared  that 
after  she  was  gone  the  gathering  tempest  would 
break  loose  with  uncontrollable  fury.  She  knew  his 
state  of  mind  could  not  be  gauged  by  the  calm 
exterior  which  he  invariably  wore.  His  sentiments 
toward  his  wife  must  be  quite  the  reverse  of  those 
which  appeared  on  the  polished  surface.  She 
wanted  to  warn  him  against  doing  anything  rash, 
but  at  the  last  moment  she  had  to  write  her  cau- 
tion at  the  station  and  send  it  to  him  by  a  mes- 
senger. 

The  letter,  though  brief,  was  intense  and  earnest 
enough  to  have  moved  him  on  any  ordinary  occa- 
sion. It  recited  the  long  friendship  the  writer  had 
enjoyed  with  him,  and  lamented  that  in  one  thought- 
less instant  she  had  committed  an  error  that  no  code 
of  hospitality  could  justify.  If  he  cared  for  her  he 


AMONG    THE    ADIRONDACKS.  59 

would  act  as    if  the   unfortunate  affair  had   never 
occurred. 

Brixton  read  the  letter  with  a  cold  smile,  after 
examining  with  a  certain  interest  some  stains  on  it 
that  he  took  to  be  tear  drops.  Then  he  tore  it  into 
infinitesimal  bits  and  scattered  them  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven. 

The  season  when  everybody  takes  his  annual  out- 
ing soon  approached.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brixton  had 
arranged  to  go  to  a  secluded  spot  in  the  heart  of  the 
Adirondacks,  where  George  could  secure  an  entire 
rest  from  business  cares.  Emma  was  not  particu- 
larly pleased  with  the  place  selected,  but  she 
reflected  that  she  could  read  novels  as  well  there  as 
anywhere  else.  So  she  bought  an  extra  large 
number  of  the  flimsiest  kind  and  packed  them  into 
her  trunk  with  dresses  principally  intended  for 
roughing  it. 

Correspondence  had  arranged  everything.  A 
wagon  met  them  at  a  small  station  and  they  rode 
thirty  miles  through  the  woods  to  the  owner's  dwell- 
ing. At  night  they  alighted,  quite  prepared  to  be- 
lieve it  when  told  that  their  temporary  home  was 
several  miles  from  any  other  dwelling. 

That  evening  George  Brixton  walked  out  of  doors 
and  stayed  till  late.  His  face  was  set  and  his  step 
rigid.  What  sound  was  it  which  rustled  in  the  tree- 
tops,  which  stirred  the  grasses  at  his  feet  ?  It  came 
to  him  again  and  again,  shaping  that  fearful  word 
that  Ella  Drew  had  let  fall—  Murder T 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kelly,  who   owned   this   nest  in  the 
Adirondacks,  were   quiet  people  who  had   made  a 


60  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

living  for  many  years  by  offering  the  hospitalities  of 
their  house  to  hunters  and  fishermen.  During  the 
winter  Mr.  Kelly  did  some  trapping,  or  acted  as 
guide  to  parties  that  came,  up  from  the  city.  He 
also  cultivated  a  bit  of  ground  that  his  own  hands 
had  cleared  of  underbrush  and  broken  to  the  plow. 

Brixton  had  not  come  to  hunt,  as  the  season  did 
not  permit  of  it,  but  to  fish.  The  day  following  his 
arrival  he  set  off  with  Kelly  for  a  stream  some  dis- 
tance away.  When  he  returned  at  night  he  bore 
few  specimens  of  his  skill,  but  he  had  a  contented 
look,  as  if  the  day  had  not  been  wholly  misspent. 

Life  at  this  sequestered  place  was,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  uneventful,  and  several  days  passed 
with  nothing  to  mar  its  perfect  serenity.  Then  Mrs. 
Brixton  went  out  to  meet  her  husband  as  he  came 
home,  and  he  saw  that  her  face  was  troubled. 

"  There  are  thieves  here,"  she  said,  when  he  asked 
her  what  the  matter  was.  "  I  cannot  leave  a  thing 
in  my  room  but  it  is  missing." 

"Indeed!"  he  replied,  with  elevated  eyebrows. 
**  What  have  you  lost  ?" 

"Some — medicine',"  she  said.  "lam  subject  to 
dreadful  headaches  and  I  had  something  that  helped 
them  very  much.  It  was  on  the  mantel  in  our  room 
this  morning,  and  now  it  is  gone." 

George  laughed  at  the  idea  that  Mrs.  Kelly  would 
purloin  an  article  of  such  slight  value,  and  as  there 
was  no  other  occupant  of  the  house  he  bade  his  wife 
search  thoroughly. 

"Have  you  no  more  ?"  he  asked,  thoughtfully. 

"  Not  a  bit.  I  shall  feel  uneasy  all  the  time  now 
that  I  know  there  are  robbers  about.  It  is  most 
annoying.  I  have  looked  everywhere.  I  wish  you 


AMONG   THE   ADIROBTDACKS.  61 

would  leave  here  and  go  to  some  other  place  to 
finish  the  rest  of  your  vacation,"  she  added,  patheti- 
cally. 

They  went  to  their  bedroom,  and  she  showed 
him  the  spot  where  the  missing  article  had  been 
seen  that  morning.  He  sat  down  and  eyed  her 
intently. 

"What  else  have  you  lost  ?"  he  inquired.  "You 
said  there  were  other  things." 

"  Nothing —  worth  —  speaking —  of,"  she  stam- 
mered ;  "but  it  is  just  as  unpleasant,  for  all  that.  I 
shall  feel  like  locking  the  door  all  the  time  now." 

He  said  the  idea  was  not  a  bad  one,  though  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  Mrs.  Kelly  would 
commit  such  an  act.  He  told  her  on  no  account  to 
say  anything  to  the  landlady  conveying  her  suspi- 
cion, for  the  family  had  been  recommended  to  him 
in  the  highest  terms. 

The  next  evening  Emma  met  her  husband  again, 
some  distance  from  the  house. 

"I  am  just  dying  of  headache,"  she  said.  "  I  wish 
you  would  leave  here  to-morrow.  You  don't  care  so 
very  much  about  this  particular  place,  do  you  ?" 

Brixton  allowed  his  fishing-rod  to  drop  to  the 
ground,  while  he  leaned  against  a  tree. 

"  Yes,  Emma,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  I  am  very  much 
in  love  with  this  section.  I  haven't  felt  as  well  in 
years  as  I  do  here.  You  can  have  your  medicine 
sent  easily  enough.  Give  me  the  name  of  it  and  I 
will  order  all  you  wish.  It  will  only  take  three  or 
four  days  to  get  it.  But,  my  dear,"  he  added,  pass- 
ing his  arm  about  his  wife  in  a  caressing  way  that 
astonished  her,  "  you  do  not  look  ill.  You  are  the 
picture  of  health." 


62  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

She  shook  her  head,  while  the  roses  climbed  over 
her  cheek. 

"  You  don't  know  how  my  head  feels,"  she  said, 
pressing  her  hands  to  her  forehead.  "  I  have  not  said 
much,  because  I  didn't  like  to  disturb  you,  but  the 
aches  are  terrible.  When  they  are  the  worst  I  can't 
read  at  all,  and  then  the  dullness  here  is  frightful." 

He  took  out  a  memorandum  book  and  pencil, 
with  a  look  of  sympathy. 

"  We  will  have  a  cargo  immediately,"  he  said,  pre- 
paring to  write.  "  What  did  you  say  it  was  called  ?" 

Confused  beyond  measure,  Mrs.  Brixton  stam- 
mered again.  A  Brooklyn  druggist  prepared  it. 
No,  he  did  not  know  her  by  name,  only  by  sight. 
The  right  way  was  to  return  home  and  go  for  it  in 
person.  She  was  certain  she  would  die  before  the 
express  could  come. 

Something  ailed  the  husband,  surely.  He  stooped 
and  gave  his  wife  not  less  than  a  dozen  kisses 
while  they  stood  there  discussing  this  question. 
He  acted  as  if  he  had  met  her  for  the  first  time  and 
fallen  desperately  in  love.  Between  his  caresses  he 
bade  her  try  to  remember  the  name,  or  at  least  the 
location  of  the  druggist,  so  that  he — or  she — could 
write.  He  did  not  like  to  go  home  at  present.  It 
was  certainly  too  far  to  go  and  return  again,  in  the 
brief  time  remaining.  He  would  take  her  with  him 
on  his  fishing  jaunts  and  she  would  leave  her  neu- 
ralgias in  the  atmosphere  of  the  mountain  woods. 

Mrs.  Brixton  shook  her  head  sadly.  She  walked 
slowly  with  her  husband  to  the  house,  but  had  no 
appetite  for  supper.  When  they  were  alone  in  their 
chamber  she  cried  a  little.  He  had  never  seen  her 
in  these  moods  and  they  were  like  revelations  to 


AMON&    THE    ADIRONDACKS.  63 

him.  He  had  been  married  five  years  to  his  wife, 
and  was  just  beginning  to  get  acquainted  with  her. 
On  her  side,  she  was  almost  as  much  aston'shed. 
She  had  never  imagined  that  his  kisses  could  possess 
sueh  ardor,  that  he  would  act  the  part  of  a  lover 
with  all  the  passion  and  warmth  one  reads  of  in  a 
romance. 

The  next  day  when  Mr.  Kelly  went  for  the  mail 
to  a  station  ten  miles  distant,  Mrs.  Brixton  smuggled 
a  note  into  his  hand,  addressed  to  a  store  in  New 
York.  Of  course  the  honest  backwoodsman  man- 
aged to  let  Mr.  Brixton  know  about  this  letter,  and 
of  course  it  never  was  sent.  But  the  hopes  aroused 
by  it  buoyed  up  the  wife's  spirits  for  the  next  three 
days,  and  she  did  not  refuse,  when  pressed,  to  go  to 
the  fishing  streams  with  her  husband.  They  took  a 
lunch  along,  and  the  time  was  not  wholly  unenjoy- 
able.  When  four  days  had  passed,  she  began  to  grow 
uneasy  again.  She  asked  Mr.  Kelly  if  he  was  cer- 
tain that  he  had  posted  her  letter,  saying  that  she 
expected  a  package. 

"  It  may  be  a  little  late,  ma'am,"  he  told  her. 
"  Express  things  don't  git  delivered  in  these  parts  a? 
quick's  they  do  in  the  towns.  It'll  come  all  right, 
but  it  may  be  a  little  behindhand." 

After  that  the  wife  declined  to  go  with  the  fishing 
party,  and  George,  apparently  from  pure  sympathy, 
stayed  at  the  farmhouse  with  her.  Indeed,  he  did 
not  allow  her  to  get  out  of  his  sight  during  the  next 
ten  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time  she  packed  her 
things  with  eagerness  and  audibly  expressed  her  joy 
that  the  vacation  was  so  soon  to  end. 

Then  there  came  a  series  of  misfortunes. 

The  trapper's  wagon  was  found  on  the  morning 


64  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

set  for  their  departure  to  have  broken  a  tire  and  to 
be  totally  unfit  for  use  over  the  rough  roads.  Mr. 
Kelly  swore  at  his  ill-luck,  and  after  trying  for  two 
days  to  mend  the  break  with  the  tools  at  his  dis- 
posal, went  on  horseback  to  the  nearest  settlement 
for  a  wheelwright.  That  functionary  appeared  to 
take  his  full  time,  for  it  was  three  days  before  he 
arrived.  When  he  got  there  he  discovered  that  it 
would  be  better  to  carry  the  wheel  away  with  him 
and  set  a  new  tire  at  his  shop.  This  was  the  last 
seen  of  him  for  several  days  more,  and  when  Mr. 
Kelly  rode  after  him  on  another  horse  he  returned 
with  the  information  that  the  man  was  sick  abed 
with  a  slow  fever  and  might  not  get  well  for  a 
month. 

"  We  must  go  back  to  New  York  !"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Brixton,  her  patience  completely  exhausted. 
"  I  can  ride  a  horse  as  far  as  the  railroad.  You 
seem  to  be  very  calm  about  it  !"  she  added,  com- 
plainingly,  to  her  husband.  "  What  do  you  suppose 
they  will  think  at  the  office,  to  have  you  over-stay 
your  time  like  this?" 

u  It  is  our  dullest  season,"  responded  George, 
imperturbably, "  and  the  agent  told  me  when  I  went 
away  to  stay  just  as  long  as  I  liked.  But  we  ought 
to  return,  and  while  I  have  not  said  much,  I  am 
annoyed  as  well  as  you.  I  shall  tell  Kelly  that  we 
must  leave  to-morrow,  even  if  we  have  to  go  horse- 
back, and  he  will  send  our  baggage  as  soon  as  he 
can.  I  don't  see,"  he  continued,  "  why  he  can't  ride 
over  to  town  and  get  a  carriage  to  come  after  us. 
It  is  a  wonder  we  never  thought  of  that  before." 

This  plan,  which  on  the  whole  suited  Mrs.  Brixton 
the  best  of  any  yet  advanced,  only  served  to  make 


u  UGH  !   WHAT  CAN  YOU  DO  P*  65 

more  delay.  Kelly  started  on  the  mission  assigned 
to  him,  but  had  gone  but  a  few  miles  when  a  nail  in 
his  horse's  shoe  compelled  him  to  return,  leading 
the  animal  by  the  bridle.  The  second  morning  the 
only  other  horse  on  the  premises  was  taken  with  a 
colic,  induced  by  getting  loose  in  the  night  and 
gorging  himself  with  meal,  to  which  he  was  unac- 
customed. Communication  was  now  cut  off  entirely 
from  civilization,  and  a  week  passed  during  which 
the  Brixtons  neither  saw  nor  heard  from  anyone  but 
their  entertainers. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"UGH!    WHAT    CAN    YOU    DOt* 

Mrs.  Brixton  had  fretted  herself  into  something 
very  like  a  real  illness  by  this  time.  She  was  pale 
and  wan,  refused  to  eat  her  meals,  and  spent  consid- 
erable of  her  time  in  weeping.  In  this  emergency 
George  proved  the  most  devoted  of  husbands. 
When  she  was  too  sick  to  read,  he  read  to  her  out 
of  one  of  her  novels.  If  she  made  the  slightest 
motion  at  night  he  was  wide  awake,  inquiring  what 
he  could  do  for  her.  And  every  time  the  luckless 
Kelly  came  within  sound  of  his  voice,  that  individ- 
ual was  rated  in  a  high  key  for  his  inability  to 
invent  some  plan  to  relieve  the  distressing  situa- 
tion. 

At  last  after  fully  six  weeks  had  elapsed  from  the 


66  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK. 

day  the  Brixtons  came  to  the  Kelly  mansion,  both 
of  the  horses  suddenly  recovered  their  heaUhs,  and 
the  wheelwright  his.  The  wagon  was  loaded  with 
its  passengers  and  their  baggage,  and  its  prow 
turned  toward  the  railroad.  Mrs.  Kelly's  affection- 
ate good-bye  and  her  warmly  expressed  hope  that  her 
guest  would  soon  recover  from  her  indisposition 
elicited  no  response  from  the  lady  addressed.  But 
the  good  wife  of  the  trapper  consoled  herself  after 
the  party  had  gone  by  counting  a  handsome  roll  of 
bankbills,  left  by  Mr.  Brixton,  considerably  larger 
than  any  season's  profits  she  had  ever  known 
before. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  our  friends  reached 
their  residence,  and  early  the  next  morning  Brixton 
sent  for  a  physician,  without  telling  his  wife  of  his 
intention.  He  had  a  few  words  with  the  medical 
man  in  the  parlor,  and  then  went  to  call  Emma. 

"  This  is  Dr.  Robertson,"  he  said,  gravely,  when 
his  astonished  wife  made  her  appearance.  "  I  do 
not  dare  wait  any  longer  without  having  your  illness 
investigated.  Mrs.  Brixton,"  he  went  on,  speaking 
to  the  physician,  "  is  troubled  with  severe  headaches 
which  last  for  weeks  at  a  time.  Knowing  your  skill, 
I  have  confidence  that  you  will  be  able  to  suggest 
the  proper  remedy." 

Mrs.  Brixton  turned  a  variety  of  colors.  She  had 
A  feminine  idea  of  the  discerning  powers  of  her 
visitor's  profession.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Dr.  Rob- 
ertson could  read  her  through  and  through. 

"My  trouble  is  nothing  that  justifies  special  ser- 
vices," she  stammered.  "  Only  a  slight  headache, 
now  and  then.  I  am  quite  well  to-day,  for  instance, 
and  may  not  feel  the  pain  again  for  a  month  or 


"  UGH  !   WHAT  CAN   YOU   DO  !"  67 

two.  My  husband  did  not  tell  me  he  thought  of 
calling  you,  or  I  should  have  laughed  at  him." 

Both  gentlemen  rose,  as  she  left  the  room.  The 
Doctor  and  Mr.  Brixton  had  a  conversation  that 
lasted  for  the  next  hour,  during  which  time  Mrs. 
Brixton  was  seen  to  leave  the  house. 

Soon  after  the  physician  went  away  the  wife 
returned. 

"  Emma,  will  you  come  here  a  moment  ?"  called 
George  Brixton,  from  the  library.  "  I  want  to  see 
you." 

She  came  to  him,  reddening  in  spite  of  herself,  for 
she  dreaded  the  talk  she  expected.  She  did  not  like 
a  conversation  in  which  people  differed.  Not  for  a 
moment  suspecting  that  he  knew  her  secret,  she  was, 
nevertheless,  disturbed.  As  she  sat  down  near  her 
husband  she  laid  a  package  on  the  table,  and  George 
reached  over  and  covered  it  with  his  palm. 

"  I  want  tfiis  /"    he  remarked,  curtly. 

A  she-bear,  caught  in  a  trap,  could  not  have  pre- 
sented a  greater  picture  of  baffled  rage  than  did 
Emma  Brixton  at  that  moment.  She  saw  every- 
thing in  an  instant.  She  tried  to  speak,  thinking, 
that  she  could  annihilate  him  with  her  sarcasm,  but 
her  vocal  organs  refused  their  office.  Her  eyes 
flushed  blood  red,  her  lips  parted  slightly,  the  cords 
of  her  neck  swelled. 

"  You  see  that  I  know  /"  added  Brixton,  gutterally, 
bending  toward  the  figure  opposite  to  him.  "  Now, 
you  will  not  be  allowed  to  touch  the  contents  of  this 
package  !" 

In  every  line  of  her  face  was  written  the  word 
HATE  in  capital  letters.  She  shrank  into  the 
depths  of  the  chair  she  occupied,  as  if  to  get  as  far 


6*  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

from  him  as  possible.     And  still  her  lips  gave  forth 
no  sound. 

"  I  have  been  deceived,  cheated,  robbed  by  you," 
cried  the  husband,  in  a  tempest  of  rage,  "  and  I  will 
endure  it  no  longer  !  You  bear  a  life  that  belongs 
to  me,  and — before  God — I  will  have  it  !" 

A  3CW  shade  of  deeper  loathing  came  to  the  pale 
llOS,  already  Convulsed  with  detestation  of  the 
speaker.  TtoCthin  hands  moved  slightly,  as  if  they 
wers  in  imagination  crushing  something  between 
them.  Then  rousing  herself,  the  wife  rose  majestic- 
ally, still  without  uttering  a  syllable. 

"Sit  down!"  he  commanded,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder.  "You  are  dealing  no  longer  with  an  idiot, 
a  dupe  !  I  have  not  thought  this  over  carelessly. 
I  shall  take  good  pains  that  you  do  not  circumvent 
me  this  time  !" 

Pausing  between  him  and  the  door,  Mrs.  Brixton 
glared  at  her  husband. 

"  Ugh  /  What  can  you  do  ?"  she  asked,  with  a 
contempt  of  manner  and  tone  that  cannot  be 
described. 

"You  will  see!"  he  replied,  between  his  teeth. 
"  I  have  made  my  preparations.  You  are  not  to 
leave  this  room  alone.  When  I  go  a  nurse,  strong 
enough  to  bend  you  to  her  will,  takes  my  place. 
When  it  is  necessary  for  her  to  rest,  another  equally 
alert  and  powerful  will  watch  you  in  her  stead. 
From  this  hour  we  shall  divide  our  time  with  you. 
Not  for  the  fraction  of  a  second  will  you  be  per- 
mitted to  be  out  of  the  sight  cf  one  of  us.  If  you 
are  wise  you  may  go  about  the  house  as  you  have 
done.  If  you  are  obdurate  you  will  be  limited  to 
one  room,  to  which  your  meals  will  be  brought  !'* 


"  UGH  !   WHAT  OAK   YOU  DO !"  69 

No  snarling  leopard  in  its  cage,  annoyed  by  its 
keeper  for  the  delectation  of  the  gaping  crowd,  ever 
looked  readier  to  bite  its  torturers  than  did  this 
slight  young  woman.  She  showed  her  teeth  in  true 
leonine  fashion  as  she  hurled  back  her  answer. 

"  Wretch  !  Coward  !  Stand  out  of  my  way  !  I 
will  leave  you  this  instant,  never  to  return  !" 

" No— you  WON'T  /"  he  retorted,  sharply,  rising 
to  bar  her  exit. 

She  laughed  a  wild,  sneering  laugh  that  chilled 
his  blood. 

"  Fool  !"  she  cried.  "  Do  you  think  you  can  out- 
wit a  woman  ;  you,  as  dull  a  man  as  ever  lived  ! 
Chain  me,  will  you  !  Tell  me  where  and  when  I 
shall  move  about  !  Hire  guards  to  watch  me  !  And 
to  what  end  ?  That  I  may  be  the  mother  of  your 
child  !  If  there  were  no  other  way  to  circumvent 
you,  I  would  cut  my  throat !  You  don't  know  the 
kind  of  woman  I  am  !" 

Brixton  was  surprised  beyond  measure  at  the 
passionate  anger  she  had  developed,  but  he  had  no 
idea  of  budging  in  the  least  from  his  position. 

"  Know  the  kind  of  woman  you  are  !"  he  repeated, 
scornfully.  "If  I  did  not  I  might  have  tried  to 
persuade  you  by  soft  words.  Had  I  not  been  sure 
there  was  in  your  heart  no  throb  that  would  respond 
to  the  higher  and  nobler  sentiments  of  a  wife — had 
I  not  proved  you  one  of  those  creatures  who  devour 
their  own  offspring — I  would  have  respected  your 
position  and  given  due  consideration  to  your  sex. 
But  when  one  deals  with  a  murderer  he  finds  no 
place  for  delicate  methods.  I  shall  treat  you  like 
any  criminal  found  with  the  proofs  of  eruilt  upo 
him." 


70  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Mrs.  Brixton  laughed  again,  long  and  mockingly. 

"  Where,  under  what  law,  do  you  learn  that  woman 
must  sacrifice  health  for  a  child  she  does  not  want  ?" 
she  demanded.  "  It  is  well  enough  for  a  man  to 
talk !  If  he  had  the  risk  to  run  he  would  sing 
another  tune.  I  have  a  right  to  say  whether  I  will 
or  will  not  bear  children  !" 

"  Not  now  !"  he  replied,  impressively.  "  The  hour 
for  that  consideration  has  passed.  I  am  your  part- 
ner in  the  life  that  has  begun,  and  my  interests  are 
sacred.  You  know  that  for  five  years  I  have  worn 
my  heart  out  praying  for  another  inmate  of  my 
home.  I  have  done  injustice  to  Heaven,  complain- 
ing that  my  chief  desire  was  refused.  I  would  never 
have  contracted  marriage  but  for  the  belief  that 
children  would  bless  it.  When  you  stood  with  me 
before  the  clergyman  at  Markham,  you  took  upon 
yourself  obligations  that  you  cannot  throw  aside  at 
will.  Your  unborn  infant  is  as  much  mine  as  if  he 
lay  in  your  arms  !  Emma,  discussion  is  useless.  I 
am  not  to  be  moved  !"  , 

The  wife  resumed  her  seat  and  rocked  backward 
and  forward  in  her  chair,  tapping  the  floor  nervously 
with  one  of  her  feet.  The  excitement  under  which 
she  labored  was  tiring  her.  She  had  begun,  also, 
to  feel  a  little  afraid  of  this  man,  who  had  shown  a 
side  of  his  nature  that  she  had  never  believed 
existed. 

"You  think  you  can  compel  me?"  she  said,  pres- 
ently. "  You  will  find  your  mistake.  I  shall  outwit 
you." 

"I  am  afraid  you  don't  understand  me  yet,"  was 
his  cool  reply.  "  I  have  indisputable  evidence  of 
your  condition.  If  you  succeed  in  'outwitting  me/ 


"  UGH  !    WHAT  CAN   YOU   DO  !"  71 

as  you  call  it,  you  will  commit  an  offence  recognized 
by  the  laws  of  the  State.  But  I  assure  you  I  shall 
not  rely  upon  that.  The  words  you  have  already 
spoken  convince  me  that  you  require  the  severest 
measures.  I  am  prepared  to  apply  them." 

The  leopard-like  snarl  returned  to  the  woman's 
lips. 

"I  could  utter  one  scream  and  arouse  the  neigh- 
borhood," she  said.  "  What  could  you  do,  then  ?" 

"  See  that  you  did  not  repeat  it,"  he  replied.  "  1 
would  put  a  gag  in  your  mouth  and  keep  it  there  !" 

She  hissed  at  him  the  hate  she  could  not  put  into 
verbal  expression.  Then,  with  a  bound  like  that  of 
a  wild  beast,  she  sprang  toward  the  door  of  the 
room.  In  an  instant  he  caught  her.  There  was  a 
quick  collision,  physical  strength  against  physical 
strength.  She  got  one  of  her  arms  free  and  drew 
blood  oq  his  face  with  her  nails.  It  was  all  he  could 
do  to  escape  the  teeth  that  menaced  him.  Seeing 
that  he  must  overpower  her,  Brixton  exerted  all  his 
strength  and  bore  his  wife  heavily  to  the  carpet. 

The  swoon  that  followed  was  too  genuine  to  allow 
of  the  least  doubt.  Ringing  a  bell  the  husband  sum- 
moned a  strong-looking  woman,  and  together  they 
carried  the  still  form  upstairs  and  laid  it  on  a  bed. 

"This  is  unfortunate,"  said  the  attendant.  "It 
will  not  do  to  let  it  happen  again.  You  must  not  be 
here  when  she  recovers  her  senses.  Send  my  sister 
up,  for  if  she  begins  to  rave,  it  may  take  two  of  us  to 
hold  her." 

Brixton  obeyed  the  suggestion,  and  when  his 
errand  was  accomplished  went  back  to  the  library 
and  threw  himself,  all  perspiration  and  trembling, 
upon  a  sofa. 


72  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

"God  forgive  me,"  he  moaned,  "for  laying  sucn 
rough  hands  on  her  !" 

He  took  out  a  handkerchief  and  wiped  the  blood 
from  his  face. 

"  I  don't  mind  these  scratches,"  he  said,  raising 
himself  on  his  elbow  to  look  into  a  mirror.  "  She 
might  have  the  reddest  blood  in  my  heart,  and  wel- 
come. But  she  shall  not  destroy  that  little,  innocent 
life  !  No,  no,  she  shall  not  /" 


MISS  BRIXTON'S  GIRLHOOD. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    BIRTH     OF     BLANCHE. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  dwell  at  unnecessary 
length  upon  the  scenes  which  filled  the  next  few 
weeks.  Some  of  them  were  little  short  of  tragic. 
Mrs.  Brixton's  guardians  had  to  be  constantly  on 
the  alert  to  prevent  her  injuring  herself.  She  devel- 
oped a  suicidal  mania.  Twice  she  narrowly  escaped 
woundings  with  sharp  instruments  which  she 
snatched  up.  Had  she  been  able  to  get  out  of  the 
house  she  would  have  thrown  herself  into  the  river. 
Each  attempt  of  her  husband  to  com*"  into  her  pres- 
ence^made  her  almost  uncontrollable  At  last  Dr. 
Robertson  was  called  in,  and  his  examination 


THE   BIRTH   OF   BLANCHE.  73 

proved  that  she  was  in  a  condition  that  fully  justi- 
fied the  closest  restraint. 

The  authority  of  the  physician  was  now  sponsor 
for  the  proceedings  that  had  been  begun  in  such  a 
high-handed  fashion.  The  "  nurses,"  as  they  were 
called,  were  cautioned  to  use  the  greatest  care. 
Nerve  tonics  and  bromides  were  given  as  directed. 
For  a  long  time  there  was  little  change  in  the 
patient's  condition,  but  not  once  did  Brixton  falter 
in  his  determination.  She  should  fulfill  the  duty  on 
which  she  had  embarked,  if  she  lived.  Later,  her 
course  might  be  decided  by  herself.  He  would 
never  care  for  her  again,  even  in  the  remotest  man- 
ner. The  glimpse  he  had  had  of  her  true  nature 
would  make  him  abhor  her  for  the  rest  of  her  days. 

Time  mends  many  things,  and  at  last,  after  six  or 
seven  weeks,  Mrs.  Brixton  grew  calmer.  But  her 
excitement  was  succeeded  by  a  confirmed  melan- 
choly. She  firmly  believed  that  she  was  drifting 
with  absolute  certainty  to  death.  Like  a  prisoner 
under  sentence,  she  began  to  prepare  for  the  inevit- 
able hour  with  something  like  resignation.  She 
begged  the  physician  to  see  that  her  body  was  laid 
by  her  parents'  graves,  and  on  no  account  in  the  lot 
owned  by  her  husband. 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Dr.  Robertson,  with  a  smile. 
"Lowness  of  spirits  is  a  natural  thing  on  such 
occasions.  You  will  not  only  survive  the  birth  of 
this  child,  but  a  dozen  more." 

Into  the  heavy  eyes  there  shot  a  gleam  of  savagery. 

"  Do  you  imagine  I  will  ever  live  with  him  again  ?" 
she  demanded,  in  a  half  shriek. 

Dr.  Robertson  shook  his  head  in  a  positive  way. 

"  My  dear  woman,"  said  he,   "  you  have  no  idea 


74:  OI7T  OF   WEDLOCK. 

how  the  possession  of  a  child  will  alter  your  views. 
You  will  adore  it  ;  and  for  its  sake  you  will  idolize 
its  father." 

Mrs.  Brixton  bit  her  lips  and  drew  a  long  breath 
of  distress. 

"  Hear  what  I  tell  you,"  she  replied.  "  If  I  am  so 
unhappy  as  to  have  it  born  alive,  I  will  never 
touch  that  child  !  I  hate  it  now,  and  much  more  do 
I  hate  the  wretch  who  has  driven  me  to  this  agony  !" 

The  physician  rose  to  go,  with  the  calm  smile  still 
on  his  mouth.  He  had  seen  them  so  often,  these 
women.  He  did  not  believe  this  one  any  different 
from  the  others. 

But  he  was  mistaken.  An  hour  after  he  had  told 
Brixton  of  the  birth  of  a  little  girl,  he  asked  the 
wife  if  she  would  not  like  to  see  her  offspring,  and 
met  with  a  rebuff  so  decided  that  he  thought  it  wise 
to  drop  the  matter  for  the  time. 

"  Keep  her  away  from  me  !"  the  woman  said,  with 
meaning.  "  I  warn  you  !" 

Convalescing  took  only  the  usual  time.  The 
young  mother  did  not  die,  nor  was  she  at  any  time 
in  danger  of  doing  so.  In  a  fortnight  she  began  to 
make  preparations  for  quitting  home.  Brixton  was 
informed  of  all  she  did,  but  he  did  not  care  to  inter- 
fere with  her  plans.  He  told  the  domestics  not  to 
let  her  touch  the  baby,  but  said  that  in  other 
respects  she  was  to  do  as  it  best  suited  her.  As  for 
himself,  he  awaited  developements. 

One  day  a  servant  brought  him  a  note  in  his  wife's 
handwriting,  reading  as  follows  : 

"  It  is  with  difficulty  that  I  can  bring  myself  to  write  to 
you,  but  it  seems  the  only  thing  to  do,  for  I  could  not  bear 


THE   BIRTH    OF   BLANCHE.  75 

a  personal  interview.  You  and  I  can  no  longer  live  under 
one  roof.  I  wish  to  go  peaceably  and  quietly.  If  you  put 
obstacles  in  my  way  you  will  only  delay  what  must  happen. 
You  have  no  invalid  now  to  deal  with,  but  a  woman  of 
strength  and  will.  If  I  forbear  to  take  the  revenge  I  owe, 
do  not  think  I  forgive  you,  for  that  I  shall  never  do. 

"  E.  W.  B." 

To  this  he  sent  the  following  reply  : 

"  I  shall  neither  presume  to  advise  nor  direct  you.  You 
are  at  full  liberty  to  live  where  you  please,  either  in  my 
home  or  out  of  it.  But,  as  the  mother  of  my  child,  it  is  my 
wish  to  support  you  in  the  style  to  which  you  have  been 
accustomed.  If  you  go  away  be  kind  enough  to  leave  an 
address  to  which  remittances  can  be  sent. 

"  G.  B." 

The  tenor  of  this  note  surprised  Mrs.  Brixton. 
She  had  anticipated  a  sharp  collision  with  her  hus- 
band. She  had  believed  that  it  would  require  legal 
proceedings  to  get  money  out  of  him,  if  she  chose  to 
desert  her  home.  A  slight  revulsion  took  place  in 
her  feelings  as  she  reviewed  the  altered  situation. 
She  did  not  like  the  idea  of  going  to  her  step-father's 
(her  mother  had  died  since  her  marriage)  and  she 
was  not  over-sanguine  as  to  earning  a  very  good 
living  at  any  employment. 

After  a  struggle  between  her  pride  and  her  fears, 
she  decided  to  take  her  husband  at  his  word,  and 
adopt  a  middle  course.  She  left  most  of  her 
belongings  at  the  house,  and  made  her  exit  with 
only  a  handbag,  containing  a  few  articles  of  daily 
necessity.  She  wanted  to  breathe  for  a  time  a  new 
atmosphere,  but  not  to  cut  herself  entirely  off  from 
the  old  one.  Before  she  departed  she  wrote  another 


76  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

brief  note  to  Brixton,  stating  that  she  would  receive 
what  funds  he  chose  to  send  her.  His  answer  was  a 
liberal  allowance  for  a  month  in  advance  and  a 
statement  that  the  same  amount  was  at  her  disposal 
regularly. 

The  wife  went  to  a  seaside  resort  that  was  just 
opening  for  the  season,  and  stayed  there  several 
weeks.  Then,  when  no  one  expected  her,  she  came 
home. 

The  house  occupied  by  the  Brixtons  was  divided 
from  this  time  into  two  parts.  Mrs.  Brixton  took 
rooms  on  the  second  floor,  and  gave  up  all  claim  to 
the  rest  of  the  dwelling.  Her  meals  were  brought 
to  her  by  her  own  maid,  who  had  nothing  to  do 
with  any  other  tenant  of  the  premises.  George,  the 
baby,  its  nurse-in-ordinary,  his  housekeeper  and 
cook  occupied  the  other  ten  rooms.  The  household 
was  thus  maintained  on  what  looked  like  an  extrav- 
agant basis,  compared  with  the  recent  expenditures, 
but  the  master  did  not  complain.  Though  deprived 
of  the  society  of  his  wife  he  found  abundant  con- 
solation in  that  of  his  baby  daughter,  in  whose 
company  he  spent  nearly  all  of  his  waking  hours 
that  could  be  spared  from  business. 

Mrs.  Drew  heard  of  the  new  arrival,  and  her 
curiosity  to  learn  the  full  status  of  affairs  brought 
her  to  the  city  on  a  visit,  when  little  Blanche  was 
about  four  months  old.  Brixton  met  her  at  the 
station,  and  as  they  were  driven  toward  his  house 
he  tried  to  make  her  understand  things  without  a 
too  full  explanation. 

44  You  will  have  to  divide  your  time  between  us," 
he  said,  in  conclusion.  "  You  can  visit  her  by  day, 
and  see  me  in  the  evening.  Meals  you  can  vary  as 


THE   BIRTH  OF  BLANCHE.  77 

it  suits  you.  I  believe  the  same  kitchen  supplies 
both  of  us." 

Mrs.  Drew  uttered  a  cry  of  regret. 

"It  seems  impossible!"  she  cried.  "  Doesn't  she 
love  her  baby  at  all  ?" 

u  She  hasn't  seen  it.  She  says  she  never  will.  We 
were  warned  at  the  start  to  keep  it  out  of  her 
reach  if  we  did  not  wish  it  hurt." 

"I  almost  wish  I  had  not  come,"  said  Mrs.  Drew, 
with  a  shudder. 

"  Don't  say  that,"  answered  Brixton.  "  It  does 
me  a  world  of  good  to  see  you.  And  Blanche — I 
have  told  her  what  an  awfully  nice  girl  you  are  and 
she  is  crazy  to  put  her  chubby  arms  around  your 
neck.  Emma  always  liked  you,  and  will  welcome 
you  just  as  heartily  as  if  I  were  not  in  the  question. 
Only,  you  will  make  a  mess  of  it  if  you  try  to 
straighten  things  out.  She  won't  let  you  go  to 
advising  her,  and  really,  things  are  better  as  they 
are.  I  couldn't  make  a  wife  of  that  kind  of  a 
woman  again,  you  see,  and  if  she  continues  to 
observe  the  proprieties  it  is  as  much  as  I  can  ask," 

Mrs.  Drew  put  her  hand  involuntarily  on  the  arm 
of  her  companion. 

"  I  pity  you  so  !"  she  said.  "  This  is  not  the  fate 
you  deserve,  as  good  and  kind  a  man  as  you  are.  I 
wish  Emma  had  not  come  to  visit  me  at  Markham, 
for  then  you  never  would  have  seen  her.  I  feel  as 
if  it  was  in  some  way  my  fault  that  you  are  in  this 
unhappy  situation." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  pity  me,"  he  replied,  with  a 
bright  smile.  "Little  Blanche  atones  for  every- 
thing. My  life  is  quite  full  now.  Every  moment  I 


78  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

can  spare  from  business  is  spent  with  the  darling, 
and  I  need  nothing  more." 

The  lady  shook  her  head. 

"You  do  need  something  more,"  she  said,  very 
earnestly.  "  You  need  the  loving  companionship  of 
a  good,  true  woman.  You  are  capable  of  making 
one  happy,  and  I  cannot  speak  with  patience  of  a 
creature  who  stands  between  you  and  your  highest 
good.  George,  you  ought  to  get  a  divorce  !" 

He  laughed  a  little  and  then  suddenly  grew 
grave. 

"  On  what  ground  ?"  he  inquired.  "  If  there  has 
been  any  cruelty  of  the  kind  the  law  takes  notice  of 
it  has  been  on  my  part.  She  would  have  killed  this 
child  as  she  had  done  others  had  I  not  placed  her 
under  the  guard  of  two  strong,  determined  women 
on  whom  I  could  absolutely  rely.  You  may 
imagine  the  state  of  her  mind  toward  me  during 
that  period.  If  she  talks  with  you  on  the  subject — 
which  I  am  sure  she  will  not  unless  you  begin  it — 
she  will  depict  me  as  a  monster  in  human  form. 
Now,  Ella,  you  know  the  circumstances,  and  you 
ought  to  be  able  to  judge  impartially.  Was  I  justi- 
fied, or  was  I  not  ?" 

Mrs.  Drew  hesitated  to  answer.  She  said  she 
could  not  imagine  such  a  condition  of  things.  Her 
own  married  life  was  so  cloudless  that  she  had  noth- 
ing to  guide  her.  But  she  did  know  George  and 
believed  in  his  uprightness.  If  he  had  taken  severe 
measures  his  provocation  was  excessive. 

"You  must  see  my  baby,  the  first  thing,"  he  said, 
as  they  reached  the  house. 

The  child's  nurse,  a  matronly  woman  named  Mrs. 
Reynolds,  brought  forth  the  conquering  heroin*  as 


THE   BIRTH   OF   BLANCHE.  79 

soon  as  she  heard  Mr.  Brixton  had  arrived,  and  the 
young  lady  won  the  heart  of  her  "  Aunt  Ella " 
instantly. 

"  How  lovely  she  is  !"  was  the  warm  exclamation 
with  which  the  child  was  greeted.  "  See  her  hold 
out  her  little  hands  !  I  never  saw  a  brighter  child 
of  her  age.  Come  to  me,  sweetheart  !'* 

Blanche,  who  had  twined  her  arms  around  the 
neck  of  her  father,  lifted  her  head  from  his  shoulder 
and  gazed  in  the  direction  of  the  unfamiliar  voice. 
Then,  in  response  to  another  invitation,  she  plunged 
into  the  embrace  waiting  for  her. 

Reynolds  retired  and  the  two  friends  were  alone 
with  the  child. 

"  And  you  say  Emma  has  never  seen  her  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Drew,  incredulously.  "Never?" 

"  Not  once." 

"Then  she  shall.  It  is  an  outrage.  She  cannot 
be  made  of  stone.  One  glance  at  the  dimpled  face 
will  win  her,  I  am  sure.  There  is  no  woman  living 
who  could  look  at  this  child,  and  realize  that  it  was 
her  own  flesh  and  blood,  without  an  overwhelming 
desire  to  take  it  to  her  heart." 

George  Brixton  started. 

"  But  I  should  never  permit  her  to  do  that !"  he 
said,  quickly.  "  This  is  not  her  child  ;  it  is  mine, 
all  mine  !  She  has  forfeited  every  right  she  ever 
had  in  it.  I  would  not  let  her  touch  it  for  all  New 
York  !" 

His  manner  was  so  earnest  that  his  friend  was 
abashed  for  a  moment. 

"  Now  it  is  you  who  are  unreasonable,"  she  said, 
at  last.  "A  mother  cannot  forfeit  her  rights  in  her 
baby.  No  matter  what  she  has  done,  this  is  just  as 


80  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

much  hers  as  yours.  If  she  can  be  made  to  think  so, 
you  ought  to  thank  God  !" 

He  refused  to  be  convinced  in  the  least. 

"I  should  be  afraid  to  let  her  take  it,"  he  said. 
"I  should  tremble  if  Reynolds  were  to  let  Blanche 
out  of  her  sight.  The  bitterness  Emma  still  feels 
toward  me  might  find  a  vent  on  this  little  one.  No, 
you  must  not  try  to  alter  her  determination.  Dis- 
agreeable as  things  are,  a  word  from  you  might 
make  them  infinitely  worse." 

"  Ah  !"  she  replied.  "  You  are  hard  and  unfor* 
giving  !" 

"  But  you  spoke  as  severely  of  her  as  I,  a  few 
moments  ago." 

"Of  what  she  had  done,  yes.  But  I  would  allow 
her  to  repent.  Think  what  is  before  you.  Thirty, 
forty,  fifty  years  of  this  loveless  life,  this  hatred 
toward  the  mother  of  the  child  you  adore.  What 
will  you  tell  Blanche,  when  she  is  old  enough  to 
inquire  why  her  home  is  different  from  that  of  other 
girls  ?" 

Mrs.  Drew  held  the  child  in  her  arms,  stroking  its 
head  as  she  spoke  ;  and  the  emotion  she  felt  made  a 
tremble  in  her  voice. 

"What  shall  I  tell  her?"  he  repeated.  "  I  shall 
tell  her  the  truth  !  Yes,  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  that.  I  have  had  time  to  think  of  a  great  many 
things,  Ella.  Most  children  have  two  parents  who 
share  the  responsibility  for  their  bringing  up. 
Blanche  will  have  but  one.  Between  us  there  will 
have  to  be  the  double  relation  of  father  and  mother. 
I  will  tell  her  the  truth,  no  matter  what  her  inquiries 
are." 

The  lady  shook  her  head  again. 


THE   BIBTH   OF  BLANCHE.  81 

"  It  is  not  feasible  ;  you  can't  do  it,"  she  replied. 
"  You  will  find  it  out,  before  she  is  five  years  old. 
As  to  her  mother,  leave  that  a  little  to  my  judgment. 
I  want  to  know  her  line  of  defense." 

To  this  Brixton  gave  a  reluctant  consent,  but  he 
added  that  the  orders  of  Mrs.  Reynolds  would  be 
relaxed  in  no  way.  Blanche  must  always  be  either 
in  her  custody  or  that  of  her  father.  He  would  not 
trust  his  wife  with  her  on  any  consideration. 

"  You  would  trust  her  with  me,  I  think,"  said 
Mrs.  Drew,  smiling. 

"  Not  to  take  her  out  of  Reynolds'  sight,"  he 
answered,  firmly,  "  in  a  house  where  Mrs.  Brixton 
lives.  You  are  neither  quick  enough  nor  strong 
enough  to  cope  with  her.  I  will  bring  Blanche  to 
Markham,  by-and-by,  for  a  visit,  and  then  you  can 
have  her  all  you  wish." 

"If  you  came  with  your  child  and  not  your  wife, 
it  would  make  gossip,"  suggested  Ella. 

"Oil,  that's  a  thing  I  must  expect,"  he  said. 

He  held  out  his  arms  for  the  child,  who  went  back 
to  him,  cooing  softly,  and  then  he  rang  the  bell  for 
the  nurse. 

When  Reynolds  reappeared,  he  gave  the  child  to 
her  and  asked  her  to  show  Mrs.  Drew  to  the  guest 
chamber. 

"  Don't  relax  your  vigilance,"  he  added,  signi- 
ficantly. "  Never  leave  Blanche  for  one  instant,  when 
I  am  not  present." 

"  I  understand,  sir,"  was  the  quiet  reply  of  the 
woman. 


gg  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK. 

CHAPTER   X. 

"I   NEVER    HAD    A    CHILD." 

Mrs.  Drew's  visit  to  the  Brixtons  was  not  without 
its  effect,  in  a  certain  way.  She  did  not  accomplish 
a  reconciliation  between  the  estranged  husband  and 
wife,  nor  did  she  succeed  in  arousing  a  love  of  her 
child  in  the  breast  of  the  mother  ;  but  she  relieved 
the  extreme  strain  of  the  conditions  prevailing  and 
made  them  less  distressing  to  all  parties. 

Her  first  care  was  not  to  violate  any  of  the  restric- 
tions that  George  had  put  upon  her,  in  relation  to 
Blanche  ;  though,  whatever  her  disposition  in  this 
respect,  the  faithful  Reynolds  would  have  prevented 
her  overstepping  the  rules  established.  She  was 
determined,  however,  that  Emma  should  see  her 
baby,  and  she  studied  out  the  way  to  arrange  this 
with  the  best  results. 

Mrs.  Brixton  welcomed  the  friend  of  her  girlhood 
with  her  usual  cordiality.  She  avoided  any  direct 
allusion  to  her  husband  as  long  as  she  could  do  so, 
but  the  peculiar  arrangement  of  matters  in  the 
house  made  it  impossible  to  wholly  escape  the 
subject. 

"  You  must  take  as  many  meals  as  possible  with 
me/*  she  said, "  and  I  also  expect  the  greater  part  of 
your  time  will  be  spent  in  my  company  while  you 
remain.  I  hope  you  have  come  for  a  good,  long 
visit." 

"  Only  a  week  or  ten  days,"  was  the  reply.     "  You 


**I  NEVER   HAD  A  CHILD.7*  83 

know  I  have  left  my  husband  and  Minnie  at  home, 
ami  when  away  from  them  ti~n  ^  will  go  very  slowly, 
no  matter  what  else  there  is  to  entertain  me.  Ah, 
Ernma  !  You  ought  to  see  Minnie  now  !  I  would 
have  brought  her,  but  your  own  child  is  so  young 
that  I  feared  all  your  available  room  would  be  taken 
up." 

The  ice  was  broken  and  Mrs.  Brixton  did  not 
evade  the  issue. 

"  My  child  ?"  she  repeated,  with  a  rising  inflection. 
"  Perhaps  you  mean  Mr.  Brixton's." 

"  Oh,  Emma  !"  The  words  came  with  a  long 
drawn  sigh.  "  How  can  a  woman  who  has  been 
through  the  experience  of  childbirth  speak  thus  of 
her  offspring  ?  There  are  fathers  who  refuse  to 
admit  their  paternity,  but  to  a  mother  there  can  be 
no  such  thing  as  doubt." 

Mrs.  Brixton  reiterated  hei  statement. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  have  heard,"  said  she, 
vbut  I  repeat  that  I  have  no  cVi\d.  It  is  along 
time  since  I  have  even  had  a  husband.  The  man 
whom  I  once  called  by  that  name  proved  to  be  cruel, 
revengeful  and  cowardly.  Whatever  regard  I  had 
conceived  for  him  could  not  survive  this  treatment. 
I  hear  that  he  has  a  child.  I  have  never  seen  it,  nor 
do  I  wish  to.  And  now,  let  us  drop  the  subject,  for 
it  is  most  distasteful  to  me." 

Thinking  it  wisest  not  to  press  the  matter  at  that 
time,  Mrs.  Drew  attempted  to  obey  the  request. 
But  whatever  form  the  conversation  took,  her  hus- 
band and  Minnie  were  forever  getting  into  it.  Her 
mind  was  too  full  of  them  to  keep  them  out.  It 
was  "  Stephen  r  who  had  said  this  and  "Minnie" 
who  had  done  that,  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do. 


84  OUT  OP  WEDLOCK. 

Even  though  she  ceased  to  speak  of  George  and 
Blanche,  they  came  before  her  vision  at  such  times, 
and  the  situation  was  frequently  very  awkward. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  can  stand  it  much  longer,"  she 
said  to  Brixton,  on  the  third  day.  "I  must  have  it 
out  with  her,  and  if  she  takes  it  too  hard  I  must 
leave  sooner  than  I  expected,  that's  all." 

"  You  will  have  to  leave  her,  perhaps,"  he  smiled 
in  return,  "  but  you  will  not  need  on  that  account 
to  cut  short  your  visit  with  me.  My  part  of  the 
house  is  amply  sufficient  for  your  accommodatioa." 

There  was  a  beautiful  picture  of  little  Blanche- 
taken  just  before  Mrs.  Drew's  arrival — a  photograph 
done  in  water  colors  in  the  best  style.  The  portrait 
was  of  such  excellence  that  the  artist  had  made  a 
copy  on  his  own  account  and  placed  it  in  his  window 
as  a  sample  of  the  quality  of  work  customers  might 
expect.  On  one  of  her  walks  Mrs.  Drew  saw  this 
duplicate,  and  she  resolved  to  show  it  to  Mrs.  Brix- 
ton the  next  time  they  were  out  together. 

*'  I  am  thinking  of  getting  some  photographs  while 
I  am  here,"  she  remarked,  pausing  at  the  window 
as  they  were  strolling  down  Broadway.  "  They  seem 
to  do  very  good  work  in  these  places.  Wait  a 
minute.  Aren't  those  colored  ones  lovely  ?  Oh, 
look  at  that  beautiful  child  !  Did  you  ever  see  such 
a  perfect  little  darling  !" 

Mrs.  Brixton  looked  at  the  picture  and  admitted 
that  the  subject  was  very  pretty  indeed .    Unable  to 
control  herself  a  minute  longer,  Ella  clasped  her 
friend  by  the  arm  and  told  her  the  truth. 
"  Emma  !    It  is  your  own  little  baby  !" 
For  a  moment  the  mother  trembled   under  the 


"  I    NEVER    HAD   A   CHILD."  85 

of  her  companion.  Then  she  became 
granite  again. 

'*  How  can  you  be  so  foolish  ?"  she  asked.  "  I 
have  no  child." 

The  blood  of  Mrs.  Drew  was  chilling  in  her  veins. 

"  Her  name  is  Blanche  !"  she  whispered.  *'  I  never 
saw  such  a  charming  infant,  except  my  own.  Look 
again,  Emma,  and  see  how  radiantly  beautiful  she 
is!" 

Mrs.  Brixton  gazed  unmoved  at  the  photograph. 

"I  understand,  I  think,"  she  said.  "That  is  a 
picture  of  Mr.  Brixton's  child.  And  he  calls  her 
Blanche.  I  do  not  like  the  name,  but  people  suit 
themselves  in  such  matters.  Shall  you  sit  to-day  ? 
If  not,  we  may  as  well  be  going." 

The  experiment,  as  far  as  could  be  judged  by  the 
result  visible,  was  a  total  failure.  Ella  bit  her  lips 
and  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eyelash.  What  a  heart- 
less woman  Emma  had  become  !  She  could  hardly 
bear  to  continue  the  walk  with  her.  As  soon  as 
they  arrived  at  the  Brixton  residence  she  left  her 
companion,  and  going  to  the  room  she  occupied 
indulged  in  that  luxury  to  the  injured  feminine  soul, 
*'  a  real  good  cry." 

When  George  came  she  told  him  about  it.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  perhaps  she  would 
believe  him  now. 

"Where  most  women  have  a  heart,  she  has  a 
piece  of  flint,"  he  said.  "  The  liquid  that  courses 
through  her  veins  is  not  blood  but  wormwood.  She 
is,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  madwoman.  Her  mania  does 
not  require  that  she  be  closely  confined,  so  long  a? 
the  objects  of  her  special  wrath  are  not  brought 
under  her  notice  ;  but  I  honestly  believe  she  would 


gg  OUT   OF 

kill  either  Blanche  or  myself  without  compunction, 
if  she  could  do  so  and  escape  detection." 

Ella  spent  a  few  hours  each  day  during  the 
remainder  of  her  visit  with  the  woman  she  now  dis- 
liked so  much,  merely  for  the  sake  of  form.  The 
afternoon  before  she  was  to  go,  Mrs.  Brixton 
abruptly  alluded  of  her  own  accord  to  the  subject 
her  friend  had  decided  to  avoid. 

"  I  feel,  Ella,"  she  said,  "  that  you  think  me  wholly 
to  blame  in  the  matters  that  have  estranged  me 
from  the  person  who  was  once  my  husband.  I  have 
no  intention  of  arguing  the  case  with  you,  for  we 
should  come  to  no  agreement.  I  never  speak  to 
him  and  hope  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to.  So  long  as 
he  continues  to  support  me  as  well  as  he  is  now 
doing,  and  to  give  me  the  same  perfect  liberty  of 
action,  I  shall  not  interfere  with  him  or  his.  The 
notion  which  he  entertains  that  his  infant  is  in 
danger  from  me  is  absurd.  He  might  act  a  little  more 
like  a  rational  being,  and  there  would  be  less  danger 
of  the  neighbors  getting  the  impression  that  this  is 
a  private  lunatic  asylum." 

George  heard  this,  and  though  he  said  he  should 
not  relax  his  vigilance  in  the  least,  it  had  an  effect 
that  was  perceptible  by  degrees.  During  the  year 
that  followed  much  progress  was  made  toward  a  less 
scandalous  state  of  affairs.  One  of  the  things  that 
came  to  his  ears  was  a  statement  of  the  nurse,  that 
Mrs.  Brixton  had  been  seen  watching  Blanche  for 
minutes  at  a  time,  from  her  window,  when  the  little 
one  was  in  the  yard,  taking  her  airings.  The  gaze 
of  the  mother  was  reported  to  be  calm  and  inter- 
ested, and  not  in  the  least  malevolent. 

One  day  Emma  took   a  step  still   farther  in  the 


"l  HEVEK   HAD   A   CHILD."  87 

direction  of  disarming  her  critics.  She  opened  he* 
window  and  spoke  to  Reynolds. 

"  Is  that  Mr.  Brixton's  child  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  the  nurse. 

"  She  must  be  about  a  year  and  a  half  old." 

"  Seventeen  months,  ma'am." 

"  She  looks  well." 

"Very  well  indeed,  ma'am.  She  has  always  been 
a  well  baby." 

Another  time,  some  weeks  later,  when  Blanche  had 
a  fall  and  alarmed  the  neighborhood  with  loud  cries, 
the  window  went  up  again. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  its  mother's  voice. 

"  Baby  fell  and  bruised  herself  a  little.  It  is 
nothing  serious.'* 

"Are  you  sure  she  has  not  broken  a  bone  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am.  She  has  only  scraped  a  bit  of 
skin  off  her  forehead." 

Blanche  ceased  her  cries,  and  realizing  that  the 
lady  was  inquiring  about  her  hurt,  looked  up  at  the 
unfamiliar  face  and  exhibited  her  bruise,  calling 
attention  to  it  with  her  chubby  fingers.  The  lady 
bowed  to  show  that  she  understood,  but  presently 
arose,  shut  the  window  again  and  went  away. 

A  few  months  later  Mrs.  Brixton  took  a  new  idea 
into  her  head.  She  came  down  in  the  absence  of 
her  husband,  and  wandered  through  the  rooms  he 
occupied,  to  the  astonishment,  and  somewhat  to  the 
consternation,  of  the  servants  there,  who  did  not 
know  whether  they  ought  to  permit  the  intrusion, 
and  yet  felt  no  authority  to  prevent  it.  Reynolds, 
whose  charge  was  asleep  at  the  time,  accompanied 
her  master's  wife  at  a  respectful  distance,  but  Mrs. 
Brixton  walked  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her, 


88  OUT  OF  WKDLOOK. 

as  if  to  show  her  pacific  intentions.  When  she  came 
to  one  room  the  nurse  said  simply,  "  The  baby  is 
asleep  in  there,  ma'am,"  and  the  mother  turned 
away,  like  a  child  when  told  that  a  certain  direction 
is  forbidden. 

"  I  wish  she  wouldn't,  but  I  can't  see  how  to  help 
it,"  was  Brixton's  comment,  when  he  heard  of  this. 
"You  must  keep  your  eyes  on  Blanche,  though, 
Mrs.  Reynolds.  Perhaps  it  was  only  a  freak,  and 
she  won't  come  again." 

But  she  did  come  again,  and  after  awhile  it 
became  a  daily  habit  of  hers  to  descend  to  the  lower 
part  of  the  house,  during  the  afternoon,  when  she 
was  certain  her  husband  would  be  out.  She  talked 
with  no  one  except  Mrs.  Reynolds,  and  only  a  very 
little  with  her.  If  Blanche  were  awake  she  observed 
the  child  slightly,  and  sometimes,  though  seldom, 
spoke  of  her  appearance,  or  asked  after  her  health 
quite  as  if  she  were  the  daughter  of  people  in  whom 
She  took  no  particular  interest. 

Brixton  was  informed  of  everything  that  occurred, 
and  his  fears  wore  away  gradually.  On  the  succeed- 
ing spring  he  took  a  short  vacation — only  a  few 
days  in  extent — and  went  with  Blanche  and  a  young 
nurse  that  he  had  engaged  for  the  trip,  to  Markham. 
Here  he  bore  the  cross-questioning  in  relation  to 
his  wife  with  equanimity,  responding  to  inquirers 
that  she  was  not  very  well  and  did  not  feel  like 
taking  a  journey.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Drew  welcomed 
the  visitors  warmly  and  Blanche  was  taken  to  their 
hearts  without  restriction. 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  tell  the  truth,  at 
any  cost,**  remarked  Ella,  one  day,  when  George 
bad  just  repeated  the  stock  story  about  his  wife's 


89 


health  to  a  person  who  stopped  to  speak  to  him.  "  I 
knew  you  would  learn  to  prevaricate  like  the  rest 
of  the  world,  if  you  were  only  given  a  little  time." 

"You  did  not  understand  me,"  he  answered.  "  I 
never  said  I  should  tell  everything  to  curiosity- 
seekers  who  chose  to  bore  me  with  questions.  I 
treat  them  in  any  way  that  seems  best  for  the 
moment.  But  to  Blanche  I  shall  never  utter  a 
deception.  Whatever  she  asks  me  shall  be  answered 
as  honestly  as  I  can  find  words  to  express." 

Mrs.  Brixton  had  not  been  informed  of  her  hus- 
band's intended  journey  and  she  did  not  ask  about 
it  until  the  second  day. 

"  Where  is  your  child  ?"  she  inquired  of  Mrs. 
Reynolds,  after  waiting  as  long  as  she  thought 
advisable  for  the  woman  to  say  something  of  her 
own  accord.  "  I  have  not  seen  her  all  day  long." 

The  woman  replied  that  she  had  gone  out  of 
town. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  some  minutes.  Then 
Mrs.  Brixton  asked,  in  a  low  tone,  if  she  would 
remain  long. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Reynolds.  For 
this  was  what  Brixton  had  told  her  to  say  in  case 
she  was  interrogated. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Brixton  came  down  earlier  than 
usual  and  remained  most  of  the  morning.  After 
lunch  she  returned  and  stayed  all  the  afternoon. 
Several  times  she  went  to  the  street  windows  and 
peered  through  the  curtains,  as  if  she  thought  one 
of  the  passing  cabs  had  stopped  at  the  door. 

At  night  the  light  in  her  window  on  the  second 
floor  burned  late.  Passers  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street  saw  a  white-robed  figure  crouched  at  the  sill. 


90  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

In  the  morning  she  came  down  again  early,  and 
watched  the  nurse  as  she  received  the  mail  from 
the  postman,  noticing  that  she  opened  none  of  it, 
after  inspecting  the  addresses.  But  neither  did  she 
readdress  any  of  it,  which  intimated  that  the  wan- 
derers would  soon  return. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  after  this,  that  Mrs.  Brix- 
ton  spoke  again  to  Mrs.  Reynolds  about  the  absent 
child.  She  had  been  out  for  a  walk,  and  on  her 
return  she  came  into  her  husband's  apartments 
without  going  first  to  her  own  rooms. 

"  Has  your  little  girl  got  home  yet  ?"  she  asked,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  Not  yet,"  was  the  composed  reply. 

"  You — you  are  expecting  her  ?" 

"No." 

Gathering  up  her  draperies,  Mrs.  Brixton  left  the 
room  and  went  upstairs.  The  maid  who  served  her 
reported  to  the  cook  that  she  did  not  touch  the  din- 
ner. During  the  evening  Dr.  Robertson,  who  still 
attended  the  family  when  his  services  were  required, 
was  sent  for.  He  told  Mrs.  Reynolds  when  he  came 
down  that  it  was  nothing  serious,  no  more  than  a 
severe  attack  of  nervousness,  such  as  Mrs.  Brixton 
was  subject  to. 

''Where's  Brixton  ?"  he  added,  shortly. 

**  Out  of  town,"  replied  the  quiet  Reynolds. 

"I  know  that,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  snap. 
u  But  where  ?  I  want  to  write  to  him." 

"  Leave  the  letter  here  and  I  will  send  it." 

"The  devil!  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  So 
he  wants  to  keep  his  whereabouts  a  secret,  does  he  ? 
Well,  I'll  wait  till  he  returns.  When  is  he  coming?" 

"  I  don't  know." 


WI   NEVER  HAD   A   CHILD.1*  91 

The  physician  grew  impatient. 

44  Confound  it,  woman  !  I  don't  mean  to  an  hour 
or  a  minute  !  Is  he  coming  within  a  day  or  two,  or 
will  it  be  a  month  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

Muttering  something  about  parrots  Dr.  Robertson 
beat  a  baffled  retreat,  and  Mrs.  Reynolds  returned 
smiling  to  her  sitting-room. 

Midnight  was  striking  on  that  very  evening  when 
the  lost  ones  came  home.  Brixton  ascended  the 
steps  with  his  sleeping  daughter  in  his  arms,  and 
assisted  the  younger  nurse  to  undress  her  and  place 
her  in  her  cot  bed.  Bending  lovingly  over  her,  he 
was  aroused  from  a  reverie  by  Mrs.  Reynolds,  who 
had  hurriedly  donned  a  portion  of  her  attire  and 
hastened  to  see  them  both. 

"  Perfectly  well,"  he  responded  to  her  first  inquiry. 
"  Never  better  in  her  life.  And  how  have  you  been 
yourself,  Reynolds  ?" 

"As  usual,"  she  said.  "We  have  all  been  well, 
sir,  but — but  Mrs.  Brixton.  She  had  the  doctor 
twice." 

"  M — m.     What  was  the  matter  ?" 

"  He  said  it  was  a  nervous  attack.  You  see,  sir, 
she  was  down  here  most  of  the  time  after  you  left ; 
and  she  asked  after  Blanche  ;  and  I  couldn't  tell  her 
how  long  you  were  to  be  away,  for  you  did  not  let 
me  know  exactly  ;  and  she  seemed  very  uneasy ; 
and  when  she  went  back  upstairs  she  walked  her 
room  a  good  deal ;  and  that  evening  she  had  asked 
me  again — that  evening  she  was  taken — and  I  could 
not  answer  her ;  and  she  did  not  eat  her  dinner,  and 
then  Rachel  went  for  the  doctor." 

Brixton  gazed  longingly  at  his  sleeping  child,  as 


99  our  or  WEDLOCK. 

if  he  envied  the  lids  that  hid  her  sweet  eyes  from 
him. 

"  She  asked  for  Blanche,  did  she  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  she  seemed  very  anxious.  1  sup« 
pose  you  would  not  have  liked  me  to  tell  hei  any- 
thing,  would  you  ?" 

The  husband  straightened  up  in  his  chair. 

"  Certainly  not  1"  he  said. 

"Dr.  Robertson  tried  hard  to  find  out  where  you 
were,  too,"  continued  the  woman,  "but  he  learned 
nothing  from  me." 

"  That  was  right,"  said  Brixton,  reflectively. 
•'  He  might  have  told  her.  Be  more  careful  than 
ever  to-morrow,  Reynolds.  Keep  Blanche  out  of 
sight  as  much  as  possible." 

Then  he  kissed  the  child  reverently,  and  with  a 
peaceful  smile  went  to  his  chamber. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MOTHER   LOVE   PREVAILS. 

But  this  state  of  things  could  not  go  on  forever. 
A  couple  who  have  sustained  the  relationship  of  hus- 
band and  wife  must  find  peculiar  difficulty  in  living 
in  one  house  in  a  state  of  armed  neutrality,  especially 
when  there  is  a  child  to  complicate  the  situation. 
It  happened  that  Brixton  came  home  one  day  and 
found  his  wife  in  his  portion  of  the  premises.  To 
be  sure,  she  withdrew  immediately,  but  there  was 
time  to  allow  a  dark  cloud  to  form  on  his  brow 


MOTHER    LOVE   PREVAILS.  93 

which  she  did  not  fail  to  notice.  He  did  not  want 
her  there  at  any  time,  even  when  he  was  absent,  and 
he  debated  for  some  days  whether  to  leave  word  that 
she  must  not  pass  her  proper  boundaries. 

"  Why  can't  she  stay  on  her  side  of  the  line,  as  I 
do  ?"  he  muttered,  in  speaking  of  the  matter  to  Mrs. 
Reynolds,  with  whom  he  naturally  grew  confidential. 
"  I  don't  go  into  her  rooms,  prowling  about." 

The  woman  smiled  knowingly. 

"  Perhaps  you  would,  if  Miss  Blanche  was  there," 
she  said. 

"What  is  Blanche  to  her?"  he  demanded,  hotly. 
"If  she  continues  to  annoy  me  I  will  take  the  child 
away  where  she  never  will  see  her.  I  never  heard 
of  such  effrontery.  I  am  afraid,  Reynolds,  that  you 
make  her  too  welcome  here.  A  little  coldness  on 
your  part  might  signify  that  she  is  not  wanted." 

Mrs.  Reynolds  made  haste  to  defend  herself. 

"I  have  been  anything  but  cordial,  I  assure  you,** 
she  said.  "We  never,  as  you  might  say,  talk 
together.  It's  only  a  word  on  either  side,  and  then 
a  long  silence.  Of  late  I  have  got  to  pitying  her, 
but  I've  said  nothing  to  show  it." 

Brixton  opened  his  eyes  wider. 

"To  pitying  her!"  he  echoed.  "On  what  ac- 
count ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  anybody  can  see  that  she  suffers 
terribly.  Her  hair  is  growing  white,  and  her  maid 
tells  me  she  sleeps  badly.  She  is  a  most  unhappy 
woman,  sir,  and  one  must  notice  it,  if  he  has  a  heart 
in  his  bosom." 

Mr.  Brixton  felt  that  she  was  arraigning  him 
before  the  bar  of  her  sentimentalism,  and  he 
resented  the  act  mildly. 


94:  OUT   OF 

"Then  I  have  none  in  mine,"  said  he,  "  for  I  have 
noticed  nothing  of  the  kind.  You  imagine  a  great 
many  things,  Reynolds.  I  know  more  about  the 
composition  of  that  lady's  mind  than  you  do.  Her 
people  grow  gray  early ;  mine  do  not.  If  mental 
troubles  turned  hair  white  I  should  be  crowned  with 
snow  already." 

Mrs.  Brixton  knew  instinctively  that  her  husband 
did  not  like  to  meet  her  in  his  part  of  the  house, 
and  she  tried  not  to  encounter  him  there  again. 
Two  or  three  times,  however,  meetings  took  place 
unexpectedly,  when  he  came  home  for  something  he 
had  forgotten,  or  remained  longer  after  lunch  than 
she  thought  he  would  do.  Not  a  word  passed 
between  them  on  any  of  these  occasions.  Finally, 
three  years  after  she  had  heard  the  sound  of  his 
voice  addressed  to  her,  she  received  a  note  in  his 
handwriting,  to  this  effect  : 

"  Mr.  Brixton,  having  reserved  the  lower  part  of  his 
house  for  his  own  use,  objects  to  uninvited  visits  from  any 
person  whatsoever.  If  the  annoyance  from  that  source 
is  repeated  he  will  be  obliged  to  remove  from  these 
premises  and  assign  the  other  tenant  new  quarters  in  a 
separate  locality." 

After  th?.t  the  wife  did  not  venture  to  intrude 
upon  hef  husband's  apartments.  She  sat  a  great 
deal,  however,  at  the  rear  window,  where  she  could 
see  Reynolds  on  sunny  days,  amusing  the  child  in 
the  yard.  Mrs.  Brixton's  maid  was  also  deployed  as 
a  skirmisher,  to  call  attention  to  any  excursions  that 
might  be  made  with  Blanche  from  the  street  side  of 
the  residence,  and  as  the  girl  was  on  good  terms 
with  Reynolds  she  usually  knew  in  advance  when  to 


MOTHER    LOVK    PREVAILS.  95 

look  for  such  sallies.  The  mother  showed  her  inter- 
est in  the  child  in  other  simple  ways,  such  as  leaving 
a  door  open  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  when  Blanche  was 
passing  in  or  out  of  the  lower  hall,  to  catch  the 
faint  sound  of  her  voice  ;  and  on  days  when  the 
weather  kept  her  indoors  altogether,  she  haunted 
the  vicinity  of  the  furnace  register,  where  her 
anxious  ears  could  detect  now  and  then  the  treble 
of  a  baby  tongue. 

In  this  way  another  year  went  by. 

One  day  Blanche  was  taken  with  a  severe  illness. 
It  was  one  of  those  attacks  to  which  children  are 
subject,  and  Dr.  Robertson  could  only  say  to  the 
father,  with  a  grave  face,  that  he  "  hoped  "  she  would 
recover  from  it.  "  Hoped  !"  The  very  word  im- 
plied doubt,  and  the  distracted  man  stayed  by  the 
bedside  for  three  days  and  nights,  unable  to  think 
of  sleep  for  himself  while  the  light  of  his  sou. 
hovered  between  life  and  death. 

At  last,  overcome  with  exhaustion,  he  permitted 
himself  to  be  led  to  his  own  chamber,  where  he  fell 
into  a  profound  slumber  that  lasted  for  seven  hours. 
It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  night  that  he  awoke,  and 
starting  like  a  sentinel  who  has  slept  on  his  post,  he 
hastened  back  to  the  side  of  his  sick  child.  His 
slippered  feet  made  no  sound  on  the  carpets,  and 
he  entered  the  room  before  any  of  the  occupants 
heard  him. 

There  were  three  persons  there,  besides  Blanche. 
Dr.  Robertson  sat  nearest  the  door.  Not  far  from 
him  was  Mrs.  Reynolds.  And  kneeling  by  the  bed- 
side, with  its  arms  thrown  across  the  coverlet,  with 
one  of  the  child's  hands  clasped  in  its  own,  was  a 


9<J  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

third  figure,  which  the  father  immediately  recog- 
nized as  that  of  his  wife. 

With  the  instinct  of  preserving  his  adored  one 
from  threatening  danger  Mr.  Brixton  took  one  stride 
in  the  direction  of  the  bed,  when  he  was  arrested 
by  the  physician's  hand  placed  firmly  on  his  sleeve. 

The  eyes  of  the  men  met,  the  one  nervous  and 
excited,  the  other  quiet  and  determined.  Much  may 
be  said  without  audible  words.  Dr.  Robertson  told 
Mr.  Brixton  with  that  look  that  he  must  not  make 
a  scene  there,  because  it  might  disturb  the  slumbers 
of  the  child,  and  that  if  he  would  retire  to  a  more 
retired  spot  he  would  discuss  the  matter  with  him. 

Brixton  glanced  with  pain  at  the  figures  on  the 
bed  and  by  it.  Mrs.  Brixton  was  too  absorbed  in 
her  vigil  to  know  what  was  going  on  so  near  her, 
and  suspected  nothing.  There  was  a  moment  of 
irresolution  and  then  the  father  yielded.  He  saw 
that  the  doctor  was  right,  that  he  could  not  utter 
a  sound  without  danger  of  doing  harm.  He  lifted  a 
finger  warningly  to  Mrs.  Reynolds,  who  nodded  to 
show  that  she  understood,  and  would  watch  over 
Blanche  with  the  greatest  care.  Then  he  permitted 
Dr.  Robertson  to  draw  him  slowly  from  the  room 
into  another  some  distance  away. 

"  Don't  speak  yet,"  said  the  doctor,  as  soon  as 
they  were  alone,  with  the  doors  closed  behind  them. 
"  Hear  what  I  have  to  say.  In  the  first  place,  your 
child  has  passed  the  danger  point,  and  is  now 
certain  of  recovery.  At  this  moment  she  is  having 
a  sweet  and  refreshing  sleep.  She  will  recognize 
you  when  she  awakes." 

The  overjoyed  listener  would  have  embraced  the 


MOTHER   LOVE   PREVAILS.  97 

Bearer  of  this  delightful  news,  had  he  been  allowed 
to  do  so.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  pleasure. 

"  Now,"  pursued  the  physician,  after  a  slight 
pause,  "  for  the  other  matter.  As  you  know,  I  have 
been  for  several  years,  not  only  your  medical  adviser, 
but  that  of  your  wife.  Don't  cavil  at  the  term,"  he 
added  quickly,  seeing  that  Brixton  was  about  to 
interrupt  him.  "She  is  your  wife  before  the  law, 
whatever  your  differences  have  been  ;  and  she  is  the 
mother  of  the  little  girl  there,  as  I  can  swear. 
Blanche  has  been  very  ill.  No  one  could  say  up  to 
five  hours  ago  that  she  would  escape  with  her  life. 
Her  mother  begged  an  opportunity  to  see  her, 
begged  it  on  her  knees,  with  tears  streaming  down 
her  cheeks.  Do  you  think  I  am  made  of  adamant, 
to  refuse  her  ?  I  admit  I  did  not  intend  you  to  know 
it.  I  thought  you  would  sleep  till  daylight.  When 
you  came  in  and  found  her  there  I  could  not  let 
you  imperil  your  daughter's  recovery." 

Mr.  Brixton's  face,  which  had  beamed  with  joy  at 
the  news  of  Blanche's  condition,  was  now  thoroughly 
clouded. 

"I  don't  wish  to  criticize  you,"  he  said.  "You 
were  placed  in  an  embarrassing  situation.  But  you 
cannot  imagine  what  a  jar  goes  through  my  nerves 
whenever  I  see  that  woman  trying  to  mix  herself  in 
Blanche's  life.  You  know  the  history  of  her  birth — 
I  need  not  repeat  it.  Her  mother  cast  her  off  com- 
pletely. She  not  only  would  not  look  on  her  face, 
but  she  threatened — " 

Dr.  Robertson  interrupted  with  an  impatient  ges- 
ture. 

"  I  have  heard  that  often  enough,"  he  said,  "  and  it 
has  now  all  the  lack  of  charm  of  disagreeable 


98  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

ancient  nistory.  Most  of  us  have  committed  mis- 
takes. How  long  should  a  penitent  woman  be  pun- 
ished ?" 

A  sneer  crossed  the  face  of  the  husband. 

"Who  says  she  is  penitent?"  he  asked.  "She 
has  never  spoken  a  word  or  written  a  line  to  me  that 
showed  it." 

"Are  you  blind!"  exclaimed  the  physician. 
"  Have  you  seen  the  way  she  haunted  your  rooms, 
when  you  were  absent,  till  you  forbade  her  to  come — 
have  you  listened  to  Mrs.  Reynolds'  story  of  the  sad 
face  at  the  window  whenever  the  child  has  been 
taken  into  the  yard — have  you  watched  the  prostrate 
figure  in  the  other  room  a  moment  ago — and  yet 
understood  nothing!  A  thousand  letters  could  not 
tell  as  much  as  one  glance  at  the  form  by  that  bed- 
side. It  is  her  child  that  lies  there, — a  child  that  she 
loves  as  only  a  mother  can.  If  she  came  to  you  and 
begged  your  pardon  with  all  the  contrition  in  the 
world,  would  you  grant  it  ?" 

Brixton  walked  to  a  window  and  looked  out. 
The  first  signs  of  dawn  were  becoming  visible.  A 
few  lights  could  be  seen  in  the  houses  to  the  rear  of 
his  own. 

"  I  don't  want  to  seem  like  a  brute,"  he  said, 
presently,  turning  abruptly  to  face  his  judge.  "  I 
had  as  tender  a  heart  once  as  ever  beat  in  a  human 
bosom.  That  woman's  conduct  drove  all  the  soft- 
ness away.  Doctor,  I  think  not  only  of  this  child, 
but  of  those  others  of  which  she  robbed  me.  My 
life  is  broken  in  twain  because  of  her.  Except  for 
Blanche  I  would  not  care  to  live  an  hour.  I  have 
tried  to  treat  Mrs.  Brixton  with  respect,  during  the 
years  last  past.  I  have  provided  for  her,  according 


MOTHER   LOVE   PREVAILS. 

v©  my  means.  I  shall  continue  to  do  so,  but — "  and 
he  paused  to  control  his  feelings — "she  must  keep 
away  from  me,  and  from  my  child.  I  cannot  endure 
to  see  them  together  as  they  are  now.  She  made 
her  choice,  which  was  to  live  a  husbandless,  child- 
less life.  If  she  has  any  honor  left,  let  her  abide  by 
that  decision." 

Dr.  Robertson  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  I  give  you  warning,"  he  said,  "  that  she  will  con- 
sent to  this  no  longer.  She  knows  she  has  a  legal 
right  to  her  child's  society,  and  that  she  can  enforce 
her  claims." 

The  husband  fairly  trembled  with  rage. 

"  If  she  dares — "  he  began. 

"  She  will,  rest  assured,"  replied  the  imperturbable 
physician.  "As  her  medical  adviser  I  shall  recom- 
mend it.  Why,  man,  nothing  else  will  keep  her 
from  going  to  her  grave  within  six  months.  I  did 
not  want  to  say  this  to  you,  but  there  is  no  help  for 
it.  You  will  either  consent  that  Mrs.  Brixton  shall 
have  an  opportunity  to  see  her  child  daily,  or  she 
will  appeal  to  ihe  law  and  compel  you." 

Mr.  Brixton  bit  his  lips  and  did  not  answer.  He 
was  in  a  quandary  that  did  not  admit  of  speech  just 
then. 

"Think  it  over  sensibly,"  pursued  the  doctor, 
slapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  She  does  not  ask 
for  much,  only  that  Blanche  shall  not  be  hidden 
from  her  sight,  as  she  has  been  for  the  year  past. 
She  wants  her  brought  to  her  apartments  a  few 
hours  each  day — kept  in  the  charge  of  her  nurse,  if 
you  will.  Now,  think  it  over.  It  will  be  either  con- 
sent on  your  part,  or  a  public  scandal,  a  hearing 
before  a  court.  And  I  tell  you  on  my  professional 


100  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

reputation,  no  man  sits  on  any  bench  In  this  State 
who  will  refuse  to  give  her  all  she  asks  and  more." 

When  the  two  men  returned  to  the  sick  chamber 
the  intruder  had  gone.  A  fortnight  later,  after  the 
most  intense  mental  struggle — and  an  interview  with 
a  prominent  lawyer,  who  substantiated  all  that  Dr» 
Robertson  had  said — Brixton  astonished  Mrs.  Rey- 
nolds by  telling  her  to  take  Blanche  upstairs  for  a 
little  while,  to  let  her  see  that  part  of  the  house. 

"She  is  not  strong  enough  to  stay  out  in  the  yard 
yet,"  he  said,  "  and  the  carriage  rides  seem  to  tire 
her.  Anything  will  do  for  a  change,  and  she  has 
never  been  above  this  floor.  Don't  stay  too  long, 
and  be  sure  you  keep  the  most  perfect  watch  over 
her.  We  can't  be  too  careful — now  that  she  is 
convalescing." 

Mrs.  Reynolds  smiled  to  herself,  but  her  employer 
did  not  notice  it.  He  took  up  a  book  and  settled 
himself  into  a  pretence  of  reading,  for  he  could  not 
think  of  going  out  of  the  house  on  that  first  occa- 
sion of  Blanche's  visit  to  the  apartments  occupied  by 
his  wife.  Shrewd  woman  as  she  was,  the  nurse  came 
back  within  an  hour,  thinking  it  wisest  not  to  pro- 
long his  agony  ;  but  it  seemed  a  month  to  him. 
When  the  child  returned  he  took  her  in  his  arms  as 
if  she  had  been  rescued  from  some  terrible  danger, 
and  he  did  not  leave  her  the  whole  of  the  morning. 

How  it  came  about  no  one  could  ever  tell  exactly, 
but  the  little  girl  drew  her  father  and  mother,  slowly 
but  surely,  nearer  together.  Finally  Emma  did  not 
spring  up  in  affright  if  her  husband  happened  to 
enter  at  the  street  door,  when  Blanche  was  visiting 
her,  and  George  would  stop  and  pat  his  child  on  the 
head  even  if  his  wife  was  coming  down  the  stairs. 


MOTHER  LOVE  PREVAILS.  101 

Blanche  called  her  mother  "  Zat  lady,"  and  used 
to  babble  a  great  deal  about  her  while  at  table. 
'*  Zat  lady,  zat  nice  lady  give  me  zis,"  she  would  say, 
producing  some  toy;  "zat  pitty  lady  upstairs." 
And  he  grew  accustomed  to  it,  after  a  period  when 
it  cut  him  to  the  heart,  until  at  last  he  did  not  mind 
it  near  so  much. 

The  great  change  came,  however,  when  he  moved 
to  another  residence  in  the  newer  quarter  of  the 
city.  Mrs.  Reynolds  and  Dr.  Robertson  arranged 
things  between  them,  without  Brixton's  suspecting 
their  collusion,  so  that  Mrs.  Brixton's  rooms  were 
partly  on  the  lower  and  partly  on  the  second  floor, 
thus  bringing  her  and  her  daughter  together  with- 
out the  old  formality  of  ascending  to  another  story. 
It  took  a  long  time  to  gain  the  next  step,  for  the 
plotters  knew  that  precipitation  might  spoil  every- 
thing ;  but  at  last  the  father,  mother  and  child  would 
gather  in  the  parlor  after  dinner,  although  no  word 
was  directly  exchanged  and  seats  were  taken  the 
farthest  possible  from  each  other.  And  later  yet,  in 
some  mysterious  way,  "  ze  nice  lady  "  was  urged  so 
hard  by  Blanche  to  dine  with  her  that  she  consented, 
and  after  that  the  strange  family  was  always  united 
— though  still  very  much  divided — at  that  meal. 

Mrs.  Reynolds,  faithful  to  the  end,  was  the  boun- 
dary line  on  these  occasions.  She  saw  that  both 
George  and  Emma  were  waited  upon,  and  that 
Blanche  had  everything  that  was  good  for  her.  Mrs. 
Brixton  never  spoke  except  to  utter  a  "  yes  "  or 
"no."  The  father  and  daughter  monopolized  the 
conversation  ;  or,  to  put  it  even  more  accurately, 
Blanche  did  nearly  all  the  talking,  for  which  she 
proved  fully  competent. 


102  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

But  the  worst  was  over,  so  far  as  outward  shovr 
went.  And  when  Ella  Drew  came  to  see  her  friends, 
on  the  occasion  of  Blanche's  sixth  birthday,  bring- 
ing her  husband  and  Minnie,  she  declared  that  she 
never  would  have  believed  so  much  could  have  been 
accomplished  in  the  way  of  making  those  people 
behave  decently  to  each  other. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FORGIVENESS    AND    DEATH. 

Behaving  decently  as  far  as  the  outside  world  can 
see  is,  however,  far  from  fulfilling  the  requirements 
of  a  true  marriage.  Mrs.  Drew  could  not  end  this 
visit  without  making  a  vigorous  attempt  to  remedy 
the  unfortunate  condition  of  things  she  found,  and 
for  which  she  had  always  felt  a  certain  sense  of 
blame.  Her  first  approach  to  the  subject  was  made 
with  Brixton.  He  had  told  her  of  the  incident 
during  Blanche's  illness,  and  explained  that  it  was 
on  account  of  Dr.  Robertson's  insistence  that  the 
child  was  now  allowed  to  be  with  considerable 
freedom  in  the  company  of  her  mother.  There  was 
nothing,  however,  in  his  manner  or  tone  that  im- 
plied the  least  affection  toward  the  woman  who  was 
by  law  his  wife. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  so  much  of  an  improvement," 
said  Ella,  earnestly.  "  It  leads  me  to  hope  for  a  still 
greater  one  in  the  future." 

"  You  see  all  you  will  ever  see,"  was  the  cold 
response. 


FORGIVENESS    AND   DEATH.  103 

"You  would  have  been  equally  certain  that  the 
present  conditions  could  never  prevail,"  smiled  Mrs. 
Drew.  "  I  notice  that  Blanche  now  speaks  to 
Emma  by  the  name  of  '  mother.'  As  she  grows 
older  she  will  wonder  that  her  parents  act  unlike 
those  of  other  girls." 

Brixton  shook  his  head. 

"  Blanche  is  no  common  child,"  said  he.  "  She 
understands  a  great  deal  more  than  you  give  her 
credit  for.  Although  she  calls  Mrs.  Brixton  '  mother* 
she  means  nothing  by  it.  She  cares  quite  as  much 
for  Reynolds  or  Rachel  as  for  her." 

The  listener  shuddered. 

"  Oh,  why  can't  you  forgive  and  forget  all  that  is 
past !"  she  cried.  "  Why  can't  you  and  Emma  begin 
life  over  again  ?  It  is  terrible,  the  way  you  are 
living,with  hate  where  there  should  be  love,  distrust 
where  there  should  be  confidence — you,  the  father 
and  mother  of  that  dear  child  !" 

Brixton  drew  a  long  breath.  She  had  aroused  all 
that  was  most  earnest  in  his  nature. 

"Ella,"  he  replied,  with  a  tender  smile,  "you  are 
too  good  for  such  a  world  as  this.  There  are  times 
when  it  is  one's  duty  to  remember  !  A  renewal  of  the 
marriage  relations  between  Mrs.  Brixton  and  myself 
would  be  one  of  the  most  horrible  things  conceiv- 
able. I  know  her  so  well  that  I  never  could  respect 
her  ;  she  has  hated  me  so  long  that  love  is  out  of 
the  question.  You  and  I  do  not  differ  as  to  what 
marriage  is  for.  Should  I  take  to  my  arms,  then,  a 
woman  who  would  try  to  set  the  mark  of  Cain  upon 
her  brow  each  time  the  Almighty  Father  put  his  seal 
of  blessing  on  her  ?  Worse  !  Shall  I  give  into  her 
keeping — her  education — that  pure  young  soul  so 


104  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

liable  to  contamination  from  false  views  of  right  and 
wrong  ?  We  are  separated  by  a  boundless  sea,  and 
thus  we  must  remain." 

"  But,"  persisted  Ella,  "  if  she  would  come  to  you 
and  swear  never  to  repeat  the  follies  of  the  past  ;  if 
she  were  to  ask  your  forgiveness  and  say  that  her 
views  had  changed  ;  would  you  repulse  her  then  ?" 

To  this  he  answered  that  the  possibility  was  too 
remote  to  make  it  worth  discussing ;  and  suddenly 
branched  off  into  another  subject,  refusing  to  be  led 
back  to  the  one  she  most  wanted  to  talk  about. 

With  Mrs.  Brixton  Ella  was  no  more  successful. 
The  wife  was  much  broken  in  health  and  spirit,  but 
she  had  no  thought  of  renewing  her  marital  rela- 
tions. All  she  wanted  was  to  see  as  much  as  pos- 
sible of  her  child,  for  whom  she  had  developed  a 
positive  craze.  She  asked  Mrs.  Drew  repeatedly  if 
she  believed  Blanche  cared  for  her,  and  the  visitor 
was  obliged  to  perpetrate  something  in  the  nature 
of  a  pious  fraud  in  making  her  answers.  When  they 
were  together  Ella  could  not  help  noticing  the  anx- 
ious eyes  with  which  Emma  watched  every  move- 
ment that  Blanche  made.  When  the  child  turned 
toward  Mrs.  Brixton  for  any  cause  the  weary  face 
was  suffused  with  light.  When  they  spoke  together 
a  new  animation  came  into  the  careworn  features. 
And  when  Blanche  left  the  room  the  cloud  that  set- 
tled down  upon  the  mother  was  pitiful  to  behold. 

"Don't  you  think  you  and  George  could  recon- 
cile your  differences  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Drew  one  day. 

"No,  no!"  was  the  quick  reply.     "Never.'" 

"  Then  you  hate  him  still  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  hate  him  now,  although  he  hates 
me.  Do  not  speak  of  it.  I  only  want  my  child.  I 


FORGIYENE8S    AND   DEATH.  105 

only  want  her  love.  I  only  ask,  sometime  before  I 
die,  that  she  may  put  her  arms  around  my  neck  in 
the  same  way  she  does  around  his." 

It  was  pathetic  to  hear  her  low  words,  and  to  see 
the  dimmed  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

"  Blanche  likes  you,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Drew, 
as  one  puts  arnica  on  a  burn,  to  lessen  the  pain. 

"Yes,"  was  the  sad  reply,  "but  she  feels  a  differ- 
ence between  me  and  him.  She  has  an  instinct  that 
tells  her  I  do  not  deserve  her  love.  If  I  could  live 
till  she  was  a  little  older,  till  she  had  more  of  the 
feeling  of  a  woman,  more  of  the  knowledge  of  what 
it  means  to  be  a  mother,  she  might  be  better  able  t6 
understand." 

Mrs.  Drew  had  not  expected  so  much  of  a  confes- 
sion of  fault  as  this.  It  pained  her  exceedingly,  for 
she  felt  that  this  woman's  punishment  was  bitterer 
than  she  had  supposed. 

"  You  don't  think,  do  you,"  continued  the  mother, 
after  a  pause,  "  that  he  teaches  her  to  dislike  me  ? 
He  would  not  deliberately  try  to  do  that,  would 
he?" 

"  I  am  sure  he  does  not,"  replied  E!la. 

"  Then,"  said  Mrs.  Brixton,  wistfully,  and  with  an 
air  of  patience  under  martyrdom,  "  it  may  come,  in 
time." 

During  the  next  seven  or  eight  years  matters  went 
on  with  very  slight  change.  Though  feeble  in  health 
Mrs.  Brixton  showed  a  wonderful  vitality,  and  kept 
about  the  house  as  before.  The  husband  and  wife 
did  not  go  anywhere  in  company,  and  thus  they 
added  no  one  to  their  set  of  mutual  acquaintances. 
Mrs.  Brixton  found  a  new  source  of  entertainment, 


106  OUT   OF  'WEDLOCK. 

however,  when  Blanche  was  nine  or  ten  years  of  age. 
She  joined  a  church. 

Mr.  Brixton  paid  little  attention  to  this  episode, 
and  certainly  cared  nothing  about  it  ;  though  it  was 
brought  to  his  attention,  in  several  disagreeable 
ways,  that  the  church-members  had  taken  up  the 
cause  of  his  wife  against  him,  after  the  manner  of 
their  kind.  He  drew  the  line,  however,  when  her 
pastor  came  to  visit  him  and  give  advice  which  he 
considered  impertinent. 

"You  will  pardon  me,"  said  the  clergyman,  "but 
Sister  Brixton  is  very  dear  to  our  congregation,  and 
we  know  it  is  the  desire  of  her  heart  that  her  hus- 
band should  be  brought  into  the  fold.  Cannot  I 
persuade  you  to  accompany  her  next  Sunday?" 

Mr.  Brixton  looked  the  speaker  over  from  head  to 
foot. 

"  Next  Sunday,"  he  responded,  slowly,  "  I  have  an 
engagement  to  go  driving." 

The  minister  looked  properly  shocked. 

"You  have  a  little  daughter,"  he  said,  upon 
recovering,  "  who  ought  to  be  in  one  of  our  Sunday- 
School  classes.  If  you  would  send  her — " 

"  She  is  too  young  to  understand  such  matters," 
said  Brixton.  "  When  she  is  old  enough  to  judge  I 
shall  allow  her  to  do  as  she  chooses." 

This  shocked  the  minister  even  more  than  the 
remark  which  had  preceded  it. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  hold  those  views,"  he  said,  with 
a  modest  cough.  "  Of  course  I  do  not  question  your 
right  to  think  as  you  please.  But  I  want  to  ask  you 
if  you  would  object,  in  case  her  mother  wished  to 
take  the  child — " 


FOKGIVENESS   AND   DEATH.  107 

Then  Brixton's  eyes  flashed  and  he  forgot  his  good 
nature. 

"I  should  object  decidedly,"  he  retorted,  rising  to 
leave  the  room.  "  I  wish  you  good-day." 

The  conversation  was  held  in  his  office,  and  he  left 
the  clergyman  standing  there  looking  at  the  door 
that  had  closed  behind  his  late  companion. 

The  report  of  these  scenes,  duly  spread  among 
the  congregation  of  the  church  Mrs.  Brixton  at- 
tended, drew  forth  a  unanimous  opinion  that 
Mr.  Brixton  was  a  wretch.  Some  of  the  ladies 
remarked  audibly  that  they  wished  he  had  them  to 
deal  with  for  awhile.  A  committee,  self-formed  for 
the  purpose,  called  at  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Brixton 
to  condole  with  her. 

"  It  is  a  shame,  the  way  he  treats  you,"  said  one 
sweet  creature,  who  weighed  about  three  hundred 
pounds.  "  If  it  were  my  case  I  would  apply  for  a 
divorce;  yes,  1  would." 

"Oh,  no,  you  quite  misunderstand  the  matter," 
protested  Mrs.  Brixton,  confusedly. 

"  Not  at  all  !"  exclaimed  another  lady,  who  had 
reached  the  age  of  sixty  and  who  might  have  tipped 
the  scales,  in  the  buff,  at  seventy-five.  "  If  I  were 
you,  Mrs.  Brixton,  I  would  take  her  to  church  in 
spite  of  him.  A  man  has  no  right  to  dictate  what 
shall  be  done  with  a  girl,  any  way  !" 

It  was  in  the  hottest  season  of  the  year,  and  the 
door  that  led  from  Mrs.  Brixton's  rooms  into  the 
hallway  was  wide  open.  Blanche  heard  every  word 
from  the  parlor,  where  she  was  sitting,  with  a  book 
in  her  hand,  and  her  young  bosom  swelled  with 
indignation.  When  the  committee  came  downstairs 
she  met  them,  her  eyes  flashing  defiance. 


108  OUT   OF  "WEDLOCK. 

"You  need  not  come  here  again,"  she  cried,  "if 
you  want  to  say  such  things  about  my  father  f 
He  knows  better  than  you  whether  I  ought  to  go 
anywhere  or  not.  You  are  mean,  cruel  things  to 
call  him  names,  and  I  shall  tell  him  just  as  soon  as 
he  comes  home  !" 

The  ladies  drew  their  skirts  closer  around  them. 

"What  a  forward  child!"  said  the  stoutest  one. 
*'  Really,  I  never  heard  anything  quite  so  impu- 
dent !" 

"  Most  extr'ordin'ry  !"  declared  another.  "  If  she 
were  mine  I  should  spank  her  and  put  her  to  bed." 

Blanche,  who  in  her  brief  life  had  never  had  such 
language  addressed  to  her,  walked  up  to  the  latter 
speaker  and  put  her  face  within  five  inches  of  hers. 

"  Would  you  !"  she  cried,  passionately.  "  Per- 
haps you  are  not  big  enough  !" 

At  this  unpleasant  juncture  Brixton  arrived.  He 
stared  from  one  2o  another  of  the  women  who  filled 
his  hallway,  and  then  at  his  daughter,  almost 
hysterical  with  anger. 

"  Blanche,  my  darling,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

The  child  flew  to  his  arms,  and  her  voice  was  full 
of  sobs  as  she  replied  : 

"  They  said  you  were — a — a  brute  !  and  that  you 
had  no  right  to  say  what  should  be  done  with  me, 
because  I  am  a  girl !  And  that  mother  ought  to 
take  me  to  church  in  spite  of  you  !  And  when  I 
told  them  they  must  not  call  you  names  they  said  I 
ought  to  be  whipped  !" 

Brixton  turned  and  surveyed  the  group  of  women. 
He  controlled  himself  with  difficulty.  All  he  did 
was  to  raise  his  arm  and  point  meaningly  to  the 


FOBGIVKKE88    ATID   DEATH.  109 

door.  Not  caring  to  prolong  the  interview  the  com- 
mittee filed  out  of  it  as  fast  as  they  were  able.  When 
the  last  one  had  gone  he  closed  the  door  somewhat 
loudly  behind  her.  Then  he  touched  a  bell  that 
stood  on  the  table. 

"  Bridget,"  he  said,  as  the  domestic  of  that  name 
made  her  appearance,  "  I  do  not  wish  you  to  admit 
any  of  those  people  who  have  been  here  to-day, 
should  they  call  again." 

Taking  Blanche  into  the  sitting-room  he  ques- 
tioned her  closely  about  the  entire  affair,  and  then 
bade  her  forget  it  as  soon  as  possible. 

From  this  time  till  Blanche  was  thirteen  years  of 
age  there  was  little  if  any  change  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  Brixton  household.  After  that  I  be- 
came a  frequent  visitor,  and  saw  with  my  own  eyes 
a  great  deal  that  was  going  on.  The  first  time 
I  met  Mrs.  Brixton  was  at  a  dinner  to  which  I  was 
invited.  There  was  something  very  pathetic  in  her 
pale  face,  her  nearly  white  hair  and  her  subdued 
demeanor.  She  was  like  a  criminal  who  is  permitted 
for  form's  sake  to  dine  at  the  table  with  others  who 
have  not  forfeited  their  right  to  consideration. 
Within  a  few  weeks,  however,  I  became  such  an 
intimate  friend  of  the  family  that  I  dropped  in  at 
all  sorts  of  hours  and  began  to  see  her  alone.  Mrs. 
Drew  also  came  to  stay  a  few  weeks  and  I  got  well 
acquainted  with  her  and  won  her  confidence.  Thus, 
little  by  little,  those  parts  of  my  story  that  could  not 
be  obtained  from  Brixton  were  woven  into  the  woof 
along  with  his  recital. 

I  did  not  take  sides  with  either  faction,  and  I  do 
not  intend  to  do  so  now.  Dr.  Robertson  used  to 
talk  with  me  a  good  deal,  when  he  found  the  post* 


OUT  OF    WEDLOCK. 

tion  in  which  I  stood,  and  I  have  seldom  met  a  more 
interesting  man.  It  was  he  who  told  me,  at  a  time 
when  Blanche  was  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  that 
Mrs.  Brixton  would  not  live  through  the  summer. 
He  had  informed  no  one  else,  and  he  cautioned  me 
to  say  nothing.  There  was  little  to  be  gained  by 
hastening  the  knowledge  of  any  of  the  family  on 
this  point. 

A  few  days  before  Mrs.  Brixton  breathed  her  last 
she  began  to  realize  her  situation.  When  the  doctor 
told  her  that  she  would  not  recover  she  neither  said 
nor  acted  as  if  the  news  gave  her  pain.  She  had 
but  one  thought — Blanche. 

"She  must  forgive  me,  before  I  die  !"  she  said, 
over  and  over.  "  She  must  forgive  me  !  Doctor, 
tell  her  what  is  going  to  happen.  She  will  not 
refuse,  when  she  understands  it  is  her  las*  op- 
portunity !" 

The  physician  promised  to  speak  to  the  child  at 
once. 

"And  your  husband  ?"  he  added.  "Is  there  any- 
thing you  wish  me  to  say  to  him  ?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  no  !  Only  Blanche  !  All  I  ask  is  to  have 
Blanche  say  she  forgives  me  !" 

Dr.  Robertson  prepared  the  young  mind  as  well 
as  he  could  for  the  interview  so  keenly  desired.  He 
told  her  that  a  very  few  days  would  elapse  before 
her  mother  would  be  beyond  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
and  that  she  must  do  everything  possible  to  soothe 
the  troubled  spirit  before  its  flight. 

"  But  what  does  she  wish  ?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  She  wants  you — to — forgive  her,"  replied  the 
doctor,  solemnly. 


FORGIVENESS    AND   DEATH.  Ill 

Blanche  eyed  him  wistfully. 

"I  never  quite  understood  what  she  had  done  to 
me,"  she  answered,  slowly.  "  I  have  always  known 
that  something  stood  between  her  and  my  father  ; 
but  he  has  never  told  me  what  it  was,  and  I  have 
hesitated  to  ask  him-  If  you  would  explain,  doctor, 
it  might  help  me." 

The  worthy  man  of  medicine  felt  a  tingle  go 
through  all  his  nerves. 

"  I  would  not  go  too  deep  into  it,  if  I  were  you," 
he  said.  "  Your  mother  is  dying.  Sh^  wants  to 
have  you  say  that  you  forgive  her.  All  you  need  to 
answer  is  that  you  do." 

The  young  girl's  eyes  gazed  fearlessly  into  those  of 
her  companion. 

"Should  one  say  she  forgives  without  even  know* 
ing  the  injury?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  when  the  person  who  asks 
it  is  on  her  deathbed.  We  cannot  carry  our  resent- 
ments into  the  next  world,  no  matter  how  deep  the 
hurt." 

Blanche  did  not  know  about  this.  She  wanted  to 
understand  the  reason  why  her  home  had  been  such 
'a  strange  one  in  its  relations  between  father,  mother 
and  child.  The  next  morning,  when  she  went  up  to 
Mrs.  Brixton's  room,  she  felt  that  she  stood  at  the 
threshold  of  a  great  secret. 

"I  am  going  to  die  !"  said  the  pale  lips.  "lam 
not  as  sorry  for  that  as  you,  so  full  of  youth  and 
health,  might  think.  But  before  I  go  I  must  hear 
three  little  words  from  your  lips,  Blanche — just  these 
three — '  I  forgive  you.'  " 

The  daughter  did  not  answer  for  several  seconds. 

"  Can't  you  say  it  ?"  asked  the  feeble  voice. 


112  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  child,  raising  her  eyes,  "I  don't 
know  what  you  have  done  that  requires  to  be  for- 
given." 

The  sick  woman  half  raised  herself  on  the  pillow. 

"  Don't  you  ?"  she  asked,  breathlessly.  "  Has  he 
never  told  you  ?" 

"  No  one  has  told  me,"  said  Blanche.  "  If  you 
mean  father,  he  has  not  said  a  word.  I  asked  Dr. 
Robertson  yesterday  and  he  would  not  tell  me, 
either.  What  is  it  you  did  to  me,  mother,  that  has 
made  all  this  sorrow  and  pain  ?" 

The  invalid  sank  back  in  her  place.  How  could 
she  tell  this  child,  in  language  such  as  she  could 
comprehend  ?  It  was  a  task  for  which  she  had  not 
prepared  herself.  Ten  long  minutes  went  by,  during 
which  there  was  no  sound  in  the  room,  and  then, 
with  a  sudden  effort,  Mrs.  Brixton  put  her  hand  on 
that  of  her  daughter,  and  began  to  speak  rapidly. 

44  Blanche,  when  the  Almighty  called  you  out  of 
his  infinite  wisdom  to  come  to  this  earth,  I  tried  to 
thwart  his  will.  I  knew  that  the  bearing  of  a  child 
meant  suffering  for  a  woman.  I  was  selfish  and  did 
not  want  to  assume  the  care  of  an  infant.  I  was  too 
content  with  ease  to  be  willing  to  carry  out  my  des- 
tiny, to  fulfill  the  obligations  that  go  with  the  wed- 
ded bond.  I  did  what  others  have  done,  what  hun- 
dreds are  still,  I  fear,  doing,  made  preparations  to 
still  the  life  in  you  before  it  came  into  the  world. 
By  Heaven's  mercy  I  was  prevented  from  carrying 
out  my  plan.  In  the  anger  that  followed  I  refused  to 
look  at  you,  to  give  you  a  mother's  care.  My  hus- 
band and  I  were  torn  asunder  by  my  conduct.  I 
came  to  my  senses  years  after,  and  conceived  as 
strong  a  love  as  ever  found  rest  in  a  mother's  heart, 


FORGIVENESS    AND   DEATH.  113 

but  it  was  too  late  to  undo  what  I  had  done. 
Since  that  day  I  have  endured  a  punishment  such  as 
I  never  dreamed  could  befall  a  human  being.  If 
death  releases  me  from  it,  then  I  shall  welcome 
death.  But  I  cannot  rest  even  in  the  grave  unless  I 
have  your  forgiveness.  Blanche,  speak  only  those 
words,  that  I  may  rest  in  peace." 

The  young  heart  beat  rapidly.  She  understood 
every  syllable  that  had  been  said  to  her.  Bowing 
her  head  she  whispered  the  words  as  directed,  and 
allowed  her  mother  to  press  her  pallid  lips  to  her 
forehead.  Then  she  arose  and  slowly  left  the 
chamber. 

Dr.  Robertson  had  come  in  and  she  met  him  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Have  you  seen  her  ?"  he  asked,  anxiously,  and 
when  she  nodded  he  looked  the  question  he  did  not 
put  into  words. 

"  Yes,  I  told  her  I  forgave  her.  I  thought  as  you 
did  that  it  was  right  to  say  so,  if  it  would  make  her 
last  hours  brighter." 

The  doctor  stared  at  the  young  face,  drawn  with 
new  lines  of  grief. 

"And  it  was  not  trut  /"  he  exclaimed.  "You  do 
not  forgive  her  !" 

"  Oh,  how  could  1 1"  cried  Blanche,  bursting  into 
tears. 


OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
"THE  RISK  is  TOO  GREAT." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Sanger  was  with  Mrs.  Brixton 
during  her  last  hours,  as  was  also  Ella  Drew.  Both 
of  them  had  been  sent  for  at  her  request,  and  with 
the  full  consent  of  her  hnsband.  Neither,  after 
listening  to  the  dying  wishes  of  the  invalid,  made 
any  demand  upon  him  for  his  presence  in  the  sick- 
room. He  had  feared,  in  an  uncomfortable  mood, 
that  they  would  do  so,  and  had  not  been  quite  able 
to  make  up  his  mind  what  he  should  do  if  the  call 
came.  A  few  hours  before  the  end  Blanche  was 
asked  to  come  in  again,  and  the  lips  that  were  so 
soon  to  be  silent  forever  thanked  her  for  the  for- 
giveness she  had  pronounced  on  the  previous  day. 
Once  more  a  kiss  was  pressed  on  her  forehead,  softly 
and  calmly. 

"  I  never  saw  a  more  placid  death,"  said  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Sanger,  in  his  sing-song  way  to  Brixton,  when 
he  calied  to  make  arrangements  about  the  funeral. 
"  It  shows  how  little  terror  it  has  for  one  whose  life 
has  been  in  accordance  with  the  Divine  precepcs. 
May  we  all  meet  it  with  equal  confidence,"  he  added, 
evidently  as  a  side  thrust  at  the  husband.  "  The 
dear  departed  requested  me  to  conduct  the  services 
over  her  remains.  I  would  like  to  hear  any  sugges- 
tions you  wish  to  make  in  reference  to  the  matter." 

Mrs.    Drew   was   sitting   in    the    room    with    the 


"THE  BISK  WAS  TOO  GREAT."  115 

gentlemen,  but  Blanche  was  absent  at  the  moment. 
Brixton  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

44  Let  me  tell  you,  then,  to  begin  with,"  said  he, 
"  that  your  services  must  be  very  brief  and  simple. 
There  is  to  be  no  parading  of  family  affairs,  either 
by  allusion  or  inuendo.  You  may  read  the  burial 
service,  if  you  wish,  and  have  a  hymn  sung.  But 
that  is  all." 

Mr.  Sanger's  ministerial  eyes  dilated.  He  had 
supposed  that  at  this  stage  he  would  be  allowed  to 
have  his  own  way,  much  as  a  coroner  does  at  an 
inquest.  He  had  known  many  "  unbelievers  "  who 
quailed  in  the  presence  of  the  pastor,  and  permitted 
a  funeral  that  irritated  them  merely  because  they 
had  not  the  nerve  to  dictate  to  the  contrary.  Before 
his  astonishment  permitted  him  to  frame  a  reply, 
Brixton  spoke  again. 

"Another  thing,"  he  said.  "There  will  be  no 
persons  present  except  my  own  small  circle  of 
intimate  friends  and  the  servants  of  the  house. 
That  body  upstairs  is  not  to  be  paraded  before  the 
eyes  of  the  public.  You  will  be  allowed  ten 
minutes  to  finish  your  readings  and  prayers.  And 
if  there  is  the  remotest  reference  to  the  '  sorrowing 
husband  '  the  affair  will  be  cut  short  summarily.  I 
know  the  tricks  you  are  capable  of,  sir,  and  I  warn 
you  I  will  have  none  of  them  !" 

Mrs.  Drew  murmured  "  George !"  as  if  to  remind 
him  of  the  solemnity  of  the  subject,  but  he  would 
not  heed  her. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  tell  the  story  of  my  estrange- 
ment from  that  lady  to  you,"  he  went  on,  looking 
straight  at  the  clergyman.  "  I  will  say,  however, 
that  we  have  not  been  husband  and  wife  except  in 


OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

name,  for  sixteen  years.  Although  there  have  been 
times  when  I  held  hard  feelings  toward  her,  *f 
believe,  upon  my  soul,  all  vindictiveness  is  over 
now.  I  simply  desire  to  have  none  of  those  things 
which  our  circumstances  would  make  ridiculous. 
Promise  what  I  ask,  and  I  shall  have  nothing  more 
to  say." 

Mr.  Sanger  replied,  haltingly,  that  it  would  be  a 
great  disappointment  to  the  members  of  his  con- 
gregation, who  had  a  very  high  regard  for  Sister 
Brixton,  and  who  had  hoped  the  services  would  be 
held  in  his  church.  He  also  had  prepared— ahem  ! — 
a  brief  tribute  to  her  womanly  virtues  and  Christian 
fortitude  in  the  midst  of  her  sufferings.  And  it 
seemed  to  him — 

"I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  Brixton.  "I 
understand  all  that,  but  you  can't  do  it.  The  only 
question  is,  will  you  come  here  and  perform  the  ser- 
vice I  suggest,  or  shall  I  send  for  another  minister  ?'* 

With  several  hems  and  haws  the  clergyman  finally 
gave  the  requisite  promise,  though  sorely  disap- 
pointed. He  had  intended  to  give  the  husband 
some  very  neat  raps  before  a  large  and  appreciative 
audience.  On  the  day  of  the  funeral  he  kept  reason- 
ably close  to  his  agreement,  though  one  or  two 
allusions  to  his  hope  that  this  occasion  would  prove 
a  blessing  to  those  still  without  the  consolations  of 
religion  grated  on  Brixton's  nervous  ears. 

The  conduct  of  Blanche  was  noticeable.  She  sat 
by  the  side  of  her  father,  listening  to  all  that  was 
said  and  watching  all  that  was  done,  with  the  quiet, 
well-bred  air  of  a  well-trained  girl  of  her  age.  On 
the  way  to  the  cemetery  she  held  one  of  his  hands 
in  hers,  but  neither  of  them  uttered  a  word.  Shf 


"THE  BISK  WAS  TOO  GREAT."  117 

shuddered  a  little  as  the  sods  were  thrown  on  the 
coffin,  but  there  were  no  tears  from  either  father 
or  daughter,  though  Mrs.  Drew  and  Minnie,  who 
nad  come,  and  Mrs.  Reynolds,  and  the  servants, 
wept  copiously.  When  the  party  returned  to  the 
house,  Blanche  felt  its  emptiness — that  void  which  the 
dead  always  leave  in  the  habitations  where  they  have 
been  known. 

She  had  grown  older,  in  the  week  that  was  past. 
She  could  no  longer  be  spoken  of  as  a  child.  Every- 
one of  the  household  noticed  it.  She  gave  direc- 
tions, and  suggested  things,  and  assumed  control  of 
the  premises  as  she  had  never  done  before.  And  all 
the  time  she  was  thinking,  thinking,  thinking  ! 

The  only  thing  that  was  left  in  her  conduct  that 
reminded  us  of  the  little  girl  we  had  known  was  the 
love  for  her  dolls.  It  was  a  wonder  to  see  her,  after 
giving  orders  about  the  house  that  took  Reynolds' 
breath  away,  sit  down  to  her  work-basket  and  sew 
on  a  new  dress  or  a  set  of  underclothing  for  one  of 
her  inanimate  charges.  She  took  her  hair  that  had 
hung  in  a  braid  and  wound  it  in  a  knot  at  the  back 
of  her  head  ;  she  had  her  dresses  let  down  several 
inches  ;  she  looked  and  acted,  in  everything  but  one, 
three  years  older  than  she  was.  But  the  dolls  found 
her  the  same  careful  mother  that  she  had  been  when 
she  first  learned  the  use  of  needle  and  thread. 

The  neighbors'  children — the  very  tiniest  ones — 
were  also  brought  in  as  frequently,  if  not  more  so, 
than  before.  The  spectacle  of  a  dozen  of  the  mid* 
gets  on  her  nursery  floor  at  once,  entertained  in  a 
fashion  that  delighted  their  young  hearts,  was  one 
that  I  saw  many  times  during  the  next  year,  in  my 
calls  at  the  house.  She  never  seemed  so  happy  aa 


118  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

when  surrounded  with  these  Liliputians,  one  of  them 
in  her  lap  and  the  others  babbling  in  chorus  about 
her  feet. 

One  evening — it  was  fully  a  year  after  Mrs.  Brix- 
ton's  funeral — I  happened  to  be  spending  an  hour 
with  my  friends.  Mrs.  Drew  was  there,  and  her 
husband,  and  Brixton,  of  course,  and  Blanche  was 
occupied  with  one  of  her  children's  parties,  in  the 
manner  above  described.  As  usual,  when  she  was 
present,  the  young  girl  was  the  centre  of  attraction 
for  all  of  us,  and  our  conversation  turned  mainly 
upon  the  little  visitors. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  ought  to  dr>,  Blanche," 
said  Mrs.  Drew.  "You  should  found  an  orphan 
asylum.  Amusing  children  is  evidently  your  forte. 
I  think  you  are  never  quite  happy  unless  you  have 
them  near  you." 

Blanche  held  a  blue-eyed  boy  in  her  lap  at  the 
moment,  and  was  engaged  in  trying  to  make  a  part 
in  his  very  thin,  curly  hair. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "  I  do  love  them.  It  always 
makes  me  sad  when  I  have  to  send  them  home." 

"Blanche  will  be  a  splendid  mother,"  interposed 
Mr.  Drew,  and  I  felt  at  the  instant  that  he  had  put 
his  foot  in  it. 

The  girl  leaned  toward  us,  as  we  sat  in  the  group 
watching  her,  and  her  sweet  face  lit  up  with  a  radi- 
ance wonderful  to  behold. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so  !"  she  said,  softly,  clasping  her 
hands  together.  "  What  must  it  be  to  feel  that  one 
of  these  creatures  is  your  own — your  very  own  ! 
Yes,  Mr.  Drew,  it  is  what  I  long  for,  what  I  dream 
of  at  night.  I  have  seen  it  in  visions,  that  little 


"THE  BISK  WAS  TOO  GREAT."  119 

uaby  nestling  close  against  my  heart,  touching  my 
face  with  its  velvet  fingers,  breathing  zephyrs  upon 
my  neck  !" 

I  felt  my  cheeks  reddening,  and  was  ashamed  at 
the  sensation.  In  the  presence  of  such  purity  what 
right  had  a  mistaken  education  to  manifest  its 
teachings  in  the  movements  of  my  blood  ?  I 
glanced  at  the  others.  Brixton  was  smiling  upon 
his  daughter,  as  if  he  fully  approved  of  what  she 
said.  Mrs.  Drew's  hand  had  stolen  across  that  of 
her  husband,  to  warn  him  not  to  pursue  the  subject 
farther.  With  a  man's  lack  of  tact,  however,  he 
tried  to  set  things  right,  and  made  matters  worse. 

"  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  you  can  think  of 
marriage,"  he  suggested. 

Blanche  straightened  up  in  her  chair  ;  and  the 
child  in  her  lap,  realizing  that  he  was  being  tem- 
porarily neglected,  pulled  at  the  tiny  brush  she  had 
been  using  and  proceeded  to  disarrange  the  locks 
she  had  straightened  out. 

"  Marriage  !"  she  repeated.  "  I  do  not  think  I 
shall  ever  marry.  The  risk  is  too  great  to  run." 

I  glanced  at  Brixton  again,  and  on  his  face  was 
the  same  smile  of  approval,  that  same  contented 
look  that  always  illumined  it  whenever  his  daughter 
was  near. 

Blanche  turned  again  to  her  charge  and  resumed 
her  motherly  attentions,  while  Mrs.  Drew,  with  the 
tact  that  her  husband  did  not  possess,  began  speak- 
ing of  matters  outside  the  house. 

It  had  turned  out,  after  Mrs.  Brixton's  decease, 
that  George  was  now  a  very  prosperous  man.  His 
experiments  had  resulted  in  producing  the  most 
popular  baking  powder  on  the  market,  and  he  owned 


120  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

considerably  the  largest  share  of  the  stock  in  the  com- 
pany for  which  he  had  formerly  worked.  During 
the  lifetime  of  his  wife  this  fact  had  been  kept 
secret,  but  later  the  true  state  of  affairs  was  made 
public.  In  his  generosity  he  had  allowed  Mr.  Drew 
to  purchase  several  shares  at  a  nominal  rate,  when 
the  capital  was  being  increased,  as  a  token  of  his 
esteem  for  that  gentleman  and  his  wife.  It  was  his 
intention  to  retire  from  active  labor  soon  and  make 
a  long  tour  abroad  with  his  daughter. 

"I  am  rich  enough,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  some 
remark  that  was  made.  "  I  little  thought,  when  I 
entered  the  chemical  works  at  Markham,  that  I 
should  be  able  to  own  most  of  the  concern  within  a 
quarter-century.  The  business  has  got  beyond  the 
possibility  of  failure.  My  goods  are  sold  in  every 
hamlet  of  the  country,  and  are  even  being  exported 
in  large  quantities.  And  yet,"  he  added,  with  a 
touch  of  pathos  in  his  voice,  "  my  life  has  been  a 
failure,  after  all." 

The  babies  had  now  been  dispatched  to  their 
several  homes,  and  Miss  Blanche  was  sitting  with 
the  rest  of  us,  listening  to  the  conversation.  Her 
face  clouded  as  she  heard  these  words. 

"  Don't  say  that,  father  !"  she  protested. 

"  I  must  say  it,"  he  replied,  putting  his  arm 
around  the  young  form.  "  All  the  best  of  my  youth 
was  spent  in  mental  darkness.  There  is  something 
wrong  with  our  marriage  system.  The  women  of 
to-day  have  an  idea  that  wedlock  is  a  mere  pastime, 
in  which  all  the  pleasure  and  none  of  the  responsi- 
bilities are  to  be  theirs.  I  sometimes  think  it  is 
time  the  entire  institution  was  abolished — that  we 
returned  to  a  more  natural  state  of  living.  Public 


"THE  RISK  WAS  TOO  GREAT."  121 

opinion  ties  many  a  couple  together  through  weary 
years,  when  the  best  interests  of  both  demand  a 
separation.  There  are  exceptions,  of  course,  like 
you'rs,  Mr.  Drew,  but  I  question  if  they  are  not  in  a 
great  minority.  What  can  compensate  a  man  like 
me  for  the  suffering  I  underwent  during  the  first  five 
years  of  my  marriage  ?" 

I  looked  at  Blanche,  uneasy  that  she  should  hear 
this  debate,  but  she  seemed  so  much  older  than 
formerly,  so  much  wiser,  that  my  fears  were  quieted. 

"  You  ought  to  remember,"  replied  Mrs.  Drew, 
"  that  your  wife  acknowledged  her  errors  and  bit- 
terly repented  of  them.  It  is  unfair  to  arraign 
matrimony  on  account  of  one  unfortunate  experi- 
ence. Besides,  there  is  no  use  in  abusing  an  institu- 
tion without  which  the  world  would  soon  come  to 
an  end." 

I  had  never  heard  this  lady  speak  so  earnestly.  She 
appeared  as  if  defending  her  sex  in  a  body  from  the 
assaults  of  all  time. 

"  If  that  happened — if  the  world  came  to  an  end," 
retorted  Brixton,  good-naturedly,  "  the  only  harm 
that  would  result,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  would  be  a 
falling  off  in  the  sale  of  my  baking  powder.  But 
you  need  have  no  fear  that  the  human  race  is  going 
to  die  out  on  account  of  any  change  in  the  ideas 
regarding  marriage.  Before  a  great  many  years, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Drew,  there  will  be  such  a  renovation 
of  the  status  of  woman  that  each  one  will  select  the 
father  of  her  children,  and  dispense  with  his  society 
whenever  she  finds  it  agreeable  to  do  so.  Then  the 
thing  we  now  call  marriage  will  be  looked  back 
upon  as  an  unaccountable  custom  of  a  benighted 
age." 


OUT   OF   WEDLOCk. 

Mrs.  LMCW  rallied  .to  the  emergency  without  delay. 

"You  controvert  your  own  position,"  said  she, 
boldly.  "The  greatest  fault  you  ever  found  with  a 
woman  was  her  disinclination  to  become  a  mother. 
In  the  time  you  predict  will  not  she  be  even  less 
willing  to  assume  that  position  ?" 

Blanche  listened  intently.  I  wondered  what  they 
could  be  thinking  of  to  utter  such  tilings  in  her 
presence  ;  but  they  seemed  to  say  them,  not  only  in 
spite  of  her  being  there,  but  for  her  special  benefit. 

"Women  will  be  honest,  when  that  time  comes," 
said  Brixton,  "and  honesty  is  the  chief  of  all  virtues, 
it  seems  to  me.  The  hypocrisy  that  obtains  to-day 
is  simply  horrible.  Women  and  men  enter  into  a 
marriage  contract,  in  which  certain  things  are 
specified  and  others  understood.  Then  one  of  them, 
deliberately,  with  malice  aforethought,  as  the  indict- 
ments say,  sets  to  work  to  deceive  the  other  in  a 
point  of  first  importance.  In  other  words,  she 
cheats  and  defrauds  her  partner,  as  no  one  would 
think  of  doing  in  any  other  business  that  is  trans- 
acted. The  way  to  make  the  world  honest  is  to  give 
woman  greater  freedom.  Take  away  the  incentive 
to  falsehood  and  she  will  rise  above  the  petty  mean- 
nesses that  she  now  employs.  I  do  not  blame  you 
for  criticizing  me.  I  cannot  defend  myself  for  my 
conduct  toward  Mrs.  Brixton,  except  on  the  princi- 
ple by  which  we  meet  a  burglar  with  any  weapon 
that  is  convenient.  When  I  discovered  her  deception 
I  felt  insulted,  robbed,  outraged  !  I  acted  as  a  man 
driven  wild  is  liable  to  act.  Enfranchise  woman — 
make  her  economically  free — and  such  questions 
cannot  arise.  It  will  be  for  her  to  say  whether  she 
will  be  a  mother,  and  no  man  can  question  her 


AN   ARTIFICIAL   RULE.  123 

decision.  To-day  she  enters  into  a  contract  which 
common  honesty  requires  her  to  keep — and  a  con- 
tract rmide  by  two  persons  cannot  be  broken  at  the 
whim  of  one  of  them  without  danger  of  protest  when 
the  discovery  is  made  !" 

Then  he  turned  abruptly,  to  my  consternation, 
and  put  this  inquiry  to  Blanche  : 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  dear?" 

The  girl  raised  her  sweet  eyes  to  her  father. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  can  tell  you,  exactly,"  she 
said.  "I  am  sure — I  am  almost  sure,  at  least — that 
/  never  shall  marry." 

"  And  yet  you  told  us  a  little  while  ago,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Drew,  unguardedly,  "  that  it  was  the  hope  of 
your  life  to  have  a  child  of  your  own." 

"  Yes,"  said  Blanche,  softly,  turning  her  slow  gaze 
toward  the  speaker. 

It  was  with  one  movement  that  we  looked  at 
Brixton.  Surely  he  would  protest  with  vigor  when 
he  heard  this  home  assumption  of  the  doctrine  he 
had  been  advancing. 

But  he  only  stroked  the  hair  of  the  daughter  who 
was  dearer  than  life  to  him,  and  smiled  at  her  with 
the  same  affectionate  gaze. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

AN     ARTIFICIAL     RULE. 

I  do  not  want  to  make  my  story  more  circumstan- 
tial than  is  absolutely  necessary  to  show  you  the 
way  in  which  the  central  idea  of  Miss  Brixton's  life 


124  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

was  formed  and  grew  until  it  controlled  her  actions. 
Most  of  us  are  what  our  parentage  and  environments 
have  made  us.  The  thoughts  that  fill  our  brains 
have  not  come  there  at  random.  They  are  the  pro- 
duct of  what  we  have  seen  and  heard  and  read, 
combined  with  our  natural  and  inherited  bents  and 
inclinations.  Under  other  circumstances  this  girl 
would  never  have  entertained  the  dreams  that  now 
influenced  her.  Under  still  other,  but  different  ones, 
she  would  have  had  them  dispelled  by  the  counsels 
of  those  set  to  be  her  teachers  and  advisers.  In 
order  to  understand  how  she  has  come  to  her 
present  beliefs,  in  spite  of  the  world,  and  has  even 
had  the  courage  to  act  upon  them,  you  must  know 
each  step  she  took  on  that  strange  path. 

Brixton  had  loved  his  child  from  her  birth  -, 
indeed — as  he  himself  said  to  me  more  than  once — 
from  a  time  long  anterior  to  it.  As  she  grew  to 
woman's  estate  this  love  deepened  into  adoration. 
Whatever  Blanche  did  was  right ;  her  conduct  must 
not  be  questioned.  He  would  have  fought  the  uni- 
verse for  her  sake,  convinced  that  a  concensus  of 
opinion  was  worthless  if  it  opposed  hers.  In  return 
she  gave  him  the  fullest  confidence  and  veneration. 
They  talked  together  more  like  brother  and  sister — 
husband  and  wife,  if  you  will — than  father  and 
daughter.  He  had  never  drawn  any  line  that  she 
feared  to  pass.  She  asked  him  every  question  that 
came  into  her  head  as  freely  as  if  he  were  her 
mother  and  physician  combined. 

When  Blanche  reached  the  age  of  eighteen  she 
began  a  systematic  study  of  medicine.  She  seized 
upon  its  revelations  with  the  ardor  of  a  young  dis- 
coverer. Dr.  Robertson  asked  her  banteringly  if 


AW   ARTIFICIAL  BULB.  125 

she  intended  to  practice,  and  try  to  take  his  patients 
away  from  him.  He  was  astonished  at  the  things 
she  learned  in  an  incredibly  brief  space  of  time. 
She  devoured  the  text-books  as  if  they  were  cara- 
mels, and  clung  to  volumes  of  lectures  with  all  the 
delight  usually  shown  for  a  romance.  At  the  end 
of  a  year  she  triumphantly  announced  to  the  good 
physician  that  she  knew  as  much  as  he,  in  relation 
to  one  of  the  greatest  problems  of  life. 

"And  yet,"  she  added,  thoughtfully,  "I  know  no 
more  than  every  woman  ought  to  know.  I  have 
only  got  acquainted  with  Myself.  How  do  so  many 
dare  enter  a  state  of  motherhood  with  their  eyes 
blinded  by  total  ignorance  ?" 

Motherhood,  motherhood  !     Always  motherhood  ! 

"You  must  not  get  false  ideas,  my  child,"  said 
Dr.  Robertson.  "  While  there  are  women  too  ignor- 
ant, there  is  also  such  a  thing  as  being  too  wise." 

"In  what  way  ?"  she  asked,  eagerly.  "You  know 
a  great  deal,  doctor,  and  I  want  you  to  be  frank,  if 
you  think  I  am  making  a  mistake." 

"  Well,  to  be  plain,"  he  replied,  "  our  great-grand- 
mothers knew  almost  nothing  about  these  things 
and  yet  they  got  along  very  well.  Nature  is  worth 
relying  on  a  little.  She  has  done  pretty  fairly,  take 
it  altogether,  during  the  last  fifty  or  sixty  thousand 
years.  It  is  bad  policy  for  a  man  in  my  profession 
to  say  this,  for  maternity  cases  put  a  pretty  penny 
in  our  pockets  ;  but  when  a  girl  like  you  asks  for  the 
truth,  you  should  have  it.  Another  thing,  Mist 
Blanche,  while  we  are  on  this  subject.  There  is  no 
motherhood  outside  of  wedlock  that  can  be  tolerated 
in  a  civilized  country — none  that  will  not  bring  to 


126  OUT  OF    WEDLOCK. 

its  possessor  a  terrible  load  of  ignominy  and  suffer- 
ing." 

He  told  me  afterward  that  he  was  driven  to  this 
direct  statement  by  the  suggestions  that  had  been 
dropped  from  time  to  time  in  his  presence.  He  had 
been  medical  adviser  to  this  family  for  nearly 
twenty  years,  and  had  seen  some  pretty  hard 
moments  there.  He  did  not  mean  to  be  remiss  in  a 
duty  as  plain  as  this  one,  just  for  the  sake  of  choos- 
ing delicate  language  or  special  occasions. 

Miss  Brixton's  eyes  brightened  as  she  listened  to 
him.  She  was  very  glad  the  subject  had  been  intro- 
duced. 

"  Wise  men  have  been  mistaken  before  now,"  she 
answered,  deliberately.  "  Tell  me  one  thing  before 
we  go  any  farther  :  Is  the  rule  of  which  you  speak 
a  natural  or  an  artificial  one  ?" 

He  smiled  at  the  casuistic  vein  that  he  could 
discern.  _ 

"  Artificial,  decidedly,"  he  responded.  "So  is 
everything  in  our  lives,  for  that  matter.  You  live 
in  a  house,  while  a  savage  occupies  a  hut.  You  eat 
with  a  knife  and  fork,  he  with  his  fingers.  You  wear 
clothes,  even  it*  the  hottest  part  of  the  summer  ;  he 
dispenses  with  them  when  they  do  not  suit  his 
fancy.  We  can't  run  against  the  dictum  of  Society, 
my  dear  girl,  any  more  than  we  can  against  the  law 
of  gravitation,  without  getting  hurt.  But  in  refer- 
ence to  this  matter,  even  the  lowest  savages  have 
some  form  of  marriage,  the  taking  in  a  public  man- 
ner of  wife  and  husband.  Look  the  entire  world 
over,  you  will  find  it  everywhere." 

The  young  lady  nodded. 

'*  Yes,  I   have    learned  all   that,"  she   said.     "  la 


AJST    ARTIFICIAL   RULE.  127 

southern  Ainca  the  suitor  has  to  pay  a  certain  num- 
ber of  cows  for  his  bride,  while  in  parts  of  Europe 
he  father  lias  to  give  the  cows  to  induce  the  lover 
to  take  her  away.  Women  are  captured  by  horse- 
men, bought  in  the  market,  cajoled  by  soft  words, 
frightened  by  the  fear  of  being  old  maids,  seduced 
by  love  of  finery,  persuaded  by  the  lack  of  other 
means  to  find  bread.  But,  doctor,  let  us  consider 
my  special  case,  not  the  subject  in  the  abstract.  I 
am  rich  and  independent.  I  have  one  craze  that  fills 
my  waking  and  my  sleeping  hours.  It  is  to  have  a 
child  of  my  own  !  Now,  merely  because  it  is  the 
custom,  must  I  go  through  a  ceremony  that  will 
bind  me  to  some  man  I  do  not  love,  as  long  as  we 
both  shall  live  ?" 

The  doctor  regarded  her  with  quiet  gravity.  He 
saw  that  she  was  wholly  in  earnest  in  her  strange 
proposition. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  he.  "You  are  young— 
eighteen,  I  think.  Who  can  tell  that  your  hero  will 
not  come  to  you  within  a  few  years,  the  man  with 
whom  you  will  be  glad  and  proud  to  take  your  place 
as  long  as  you  remain  on  the  earth  ?" 

"  There  is  no  such  man,"  said  Blanche,  posi- 
tively. "  The  only  man  I  shall  care  for  is  my  father. 
And  if  I  liked  one  ever  so  much,  the  demands  of 
matrimony  would  make  me  hate  him  in  a  very  short 
time.  To  know  that  I  was  tied  to  him,  that  I  had 
got  to  love  him,  would  take  away  any  affection  I 
might  have  developed.  Besides,  when  the  baby 
came,  I  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  child  !  Its 
father  would  be  so  neglected  that  he  would  have  a 
right  to  complain,  and  then  would  come  recrim- 
inations, quarrels,  a  divorce.  How  much  better  to 


128  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

avoid  all  this  by  violating  one  little  canon  of  what 
you  call  Society,  and  making  a  law  to  suit  my  partic- 
ular emergency." 

How  pure  and  sweet  she  looked,  as  she  thus  threw 
down  the  gauntlet  to  all  the  human  race  !  No  pas- 
sion but  that  of  maternity  filled  her  young  soul.  Dr. 
Robertson  knew  that  a  low  or  unworthy  thought 
could  not  enter  that  vestal  mind.  Blanche  had 
become  a  very  handsome  woman  by  this  time,  as  she 
is  still.  Her  body  was  well  made,  and  of  medium 
height  ;  her  limbs  slender  but  round  ;  her  hair  dark 
and  combed  back  in  a  roll  from  her  broad  forehead  ; 
her  eyes  large  and  intelligent  ;  her  mouth  sensitive  ; 
her  lips  neither  too  thin  nor  too  full. 

"  I  can  only  answer  you,"  he  replied,  after  a  pause, 
**  as  I  have  done  already.  The  notion  you  are  harbor- 
ing is  simply  preposterous.  You  will  see  it  yourself, 
if  you  give  the  matter  thought  enough.  And  here 
is  something  that  will  show  you  at  one  glance  how 
ridiculous  the  idea  is.  You  would  want,  for  your 
child's  father,  would  you  not,  a  man  of  good  princi- 
ples, one  whose  mental  and  physical  endowment 
would  be  worth  copying  !  How,  in  the  name  of 
Heaven,  could  such  a  man  be  found  to  join  in  a 
wicked  and  foolish  onslaught  against  the  plainest 
laws  of  an  intelligent  community  ?" 

Miss  Brixton  bowed  as  he  finished. 

"  In  that  last  thought,"  she  replied,,  you  have 
struck  the  only  rock  which  I  have  seen  in  my  course. 
It  has  occurred  to  me,  exactly  as  you  have  suggested 
it ;  but  there  may  be  cases  that  prove  an  exception  to 
the  rule.  I  can  imagine  a  man  good  enough  to  be 
my  child's  father,  and  noble  enough  to  appreciate 
the  sentiments  that  thrill  me.  I  can  conceive  of  such 


JJT  ARTIFICIAL  BULK.  129 

a  one  relinquishing  all  claim  to  me  whenever  I  should 
request  it,  as  men  do  other  high  and  honorable  acts, 
because  it  was  his  duty  !  Doctor,"  she  continued 
leaning  toward  him  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  "  I 
have  a  greater  hope  than  the  satisfying  of  this  de- 
vouring anxiety  to  own  a  child — I  want  to  prove  to 
other  women,  in  a  like  situation,  that  matrimony  is 
not  essential.  Unwedded  mothers  have  met  with 
the  world's  scorn  hitherto  because  they  have  become 
so  through  surrendering  all  that  was  best  and 
bravest  in  their  natures.  I  wish  to  show  the  world 
such  a  mother,  actuated  only  by  her  highest  ideals, 
that  it  may  note  the  difference.  You  cannot  claim 
that  the  two  kinds  of  women  would  stand  on  the 
same  plane." 

Dr.  Robertson  was  growing  uneasier  every  moment. 
He  did  not  intend,  by  the  least  inadvertence,  to  give 
the  impression  that  he  thought  she  had  the  right  of 
her  argument,  in  the  remotest  degree. 

-  What  a  child  you  are  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  If  you 
had  mingled  a  little  more  with  your  sex  you  would 
know  that  they  are  poor  logicians.  They  have  been 
taught  from  their  cradles,  and  from  the  cradles  of 
their  remotest  civilized  ancestor,  that  a  child  born 
out  of  wedlock  curses  itself  and  its  mother.  The 
world  would  have  no  faith  in  your  purity  merely 
because  you  claimed  to  possess  it.  You  would  be 
ostracized  by  all  the  women  you  would  care  to  know, 
and  avoided  by  the  rest  of  mankind.  One  of  the 
requisites  of  living  in  comfort  is  to  maintain  a  good 
reputation.  Destroy  it  by  such  a  silly  plan  as  you 
are  carrying  in  that  head  of  yours,  and  life  will 
prove  too  short  to  regain  it.  Blanche,  if  this  goes  on, 
I  shall  have  to  talk  with  your  father  !' 


130  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK 

This  threat,  if  meant  for  one,  only  brougn. iiiile 

to  the  girl's  thoughtful  countenance. 

"We  have  discussed  it  a  hundred  times,"  she  said. 

"  And  lie  approves  !"  cried  the  doctor. 

"  Well,"  was  the  slow  answer,  "  I  don't  think  he 
does,  entirely.  But  he  lias  faith  in  me.  He  wants 
me  to  follow  my  ideals.  If  everyone  else  said  I  was 
in  the  wrong  he  would  stand  by  me.  That  is  the 
kind  of  father  to  have." 

Dr.  Robertson  stamped  his  foot  on  the  carpet. 

"  The  kind  of  father  to  have,"  he  corrected,  "  is 
one  that  would  drive  such  nonsense  out  of  your  head 
as  soon  as  he  detected  it  there.  He  would  know 
you  were  laying  the  foundation  of  a  life  of  misery." 

"Could  it  be  worse  than  the  one  he  led  ?"  asked 
the  girl,  quickly.  "  He  was  married,  for  many  years, 
to  a  woman  whom  he  thoroughly  distrusted  and  dis- 
liked. Under  the  system  in  which  you  believe  she 
might  have  borne  him  half-a-dozen  children,  while 
abating  nothing  of  the  hatred  that  filled  her.  In 
that  way  motherhood  becomes  not  only  an  accident, 
but  a  sad  and  unfortunate  one." 

The  medical  man  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  and  tapped 
the  table  repeatedly  with  a  ruler  that  he  had 
picked  up. 

"  You  are  two  or  three  centuries  ahead  of  your 
time,**  said  he.  "When  the  reign  of  all  that  is  good 
comes  in,  and  woman  has  her  own  pocket-book  the 
world  over,  I  have  no  doubt  some  will  adopt 
your  scheme.  But  you  cannot  enter  into  this  sort 
of  thing  alone.  Why,  you  couldn't  put  on  the  cos- 
tume of  an  Asiatic  and  walk  down  Broadway  with- 
out attracting  a  crowd,  of  hoodlums.  We  have  to 
inarch  pretty  nearly  to  the  step  of  the  procession. 


AH  ARTIFICIAL  RULE.  131 

Marriage  has  its  drawbacks,  I  admit.  So  does 
travelling  by  rail.  I  had  a  friend  smashed  up  in  a 
train  a  month  ago,  but  if  I  want  to  go  to  San 
Francisco  I  sha'n't  walk  !  Keep  in  the  ranks,  little 
one.  All  the  men  are  not  as  black  as  your  fancy 
paints  them.  I  will  undertake  to  find  you  a  nice, 
respectable,  gentlemanly  sort  of  a  man,  if  you  will 
give  me  a  commission  to  that  end,  who  will  treat 
you  like  a  precious  jewel  of  a  wife,  as  you  deserve 
to  be.  You  shall  have  your  husband,  and  your 
baby — yes,  a  dozen  babies,  if  you  choose — and  all  the 
proprieties,  which  are  more  important  than  you  seem 
to  think,  will  still  be  observed." 

Blanche  refused  to  be  convinced.  She  had  learned 
from  infancy  to  detest  marriage.  To  her  it  meant  a 
scowling  husband  in  one  part  of  the  house  and  a 
discontented  wife  in  another.  She  had  seen  unhappy 
families'  besides  the  one  of  which  she  formed  a  part. 
The  really  felicitous  ones  that  she  knew  could  be 
counted  much  more  quickly.  But  the  children — the 
little  sunbeams  that  kept  these  homes  from  utter 
darkness — they  were  all  lovely,  all  beautiful,  in  her 
eyes. 

A  child  of  her  own  !  She  pined  for  it,  as  the 
traveller  on  a  long  voyage  pines  for  the  shore.  She 
craved  it  as  the  weary  tramper  craves  the  shelter 
that  is  at  his  journey's  end.  She  gazed  with  swim* 
ming  eyes  on  each  young  cherub  she  saw  and  mur- 
mured, "  Oh,  if  it  were  only  mine  !" 

Though  without  much  religious  training,  she 
used  to  pray  to  the  good  God  above  that  he  would 
send  her  the  desire  of  her  heart.  In  her  artless 
phrase  she  told  him  of  the  care  she  would  give  it, 


132  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

of  tne  pains  she  would  take  to  teach  it  what  was 
pure  and  right. 

Dr.  Robertson  talked  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Drew 
about  this  strange  freak,  as  he  called  it,  and  they 
tried,  as  well  as  he,  to  bring  Mr.  Brixton  to  make  a 
decided  stand.  All  in  vain.  He  said  Blanche  should 
be  her  own  judge  in  everything.  All  that  he  had 
was  hers.  He  would  not  attempt  to  influence  her 
when  her  mind  and  conscience  were  set  in  any  given 
direction. 

There  was  serious  talk  of  calling  in  a  commission 
in  lunacy  to  decide  whether  the  father  was  not 
insane,  but  a  sudden  attack  of  illness  turned  all  our 
thoughts  in  another  direction.  One  day,  when  both 
the  Drews  and  Dr.  Robertson  were  present  at  din- 
ner, as  well  as  myself,  Brixton  was  attacked  with 
partial  paralysis.  Though  he  recovered  enough  in 
a  few  days  to  attend  to  his  business  affairs,  the  physi- 
cian told  us  that  he  could  not  rely  on  a  much  longer 
lease  of  life. 

"I  want  the  truth,  doctor,"  said  the  patient.  "  I 
am  not  one  of  those  to  whom  you  need  fear  being 
perfectly  frank." 

And  he  got  it.  He  might  live  six  months,  at  the 
outside.  He  might  have  another  attack  within  a 
week  that  would  render  him  incapable  of  motion. 

I  never  expect  to  witness  anything  more  perfect 
in  its  way  than  the  closing  days  of  George  Brixton's 
earthly  existence.  He  brought  to  bear  the  calm 
philosophy  of  one  who  counts  death  a  mere  episode 
in  the  career  of  mankind,  one  neither  to  be  sought 
nor  avoided  by  undue  means.  His  business  affairs 
were  in  such  a  condition,  owing  to  his  lifelong 
habits  of  order,  that  but  little  time  was  required  to 


AN   ARTIFICIAL  BULB.  13d 

dispose  of  them.  He  designated  to  his  attorney  the 
person  whom  he  would  select  as  manager,  and 
divulged  several  plans  for  increasing  the  output  of 
his  product  that  he  had  hitherto  kept  to  himself. 
His  will  made  provision  for  several  bequests  to 
faithful  employes,  gave  $10,000  to  Minnie  Drew,  "in 
recognition  of  the  long  friendship  he  had  entertained 
for  her  parents,"  and  the  rest,  without  restriction,  to 
his  daughter. 

Mr.  Sparrow,  the  attorney,  and  myself,  were  to  be 
executors  and  trustees.  These  matters  arranged, 
Brixton  devoted  the  balance  of  his  time  almost 
altogether  to  Blanche.  He  met  us  at  table,  for 
the  board  still  held  the  little  circle  of  friends  that 
had  become  so  deeply  attached  to  him,  and  for  an 
hour  after  dinner  we  always  sat  in  the  parlor 
together.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  gave  to  her  who 
was  dearest  to  him. 

It  is  a  strange  sensation  to  sit,  day  after  day,  with 
one  whose  physician  has  told  him  that  any  moment 
may  see  his  vital  powers  numbed  ;  one  who  may,  at 
a  second's  warning,  drop  his  head  upon  his  breast 
and  utter  his  last  gasp.  But  of  us  all,  so  far  as 
appearances  showed,  the  one  who  bore  the  ordeal 
the  best  was  the  self-poised  daughter  of  our  host. 
She  told  me  afterward  that  her  father  had  directed 
her  to  act  precisely  as  usual,  and  thus  give  him  the 
strength  he  needed  to  face  the  parting.  Each  day 
was  arranged  much  as  it  would  have  been  had  he 
been  merely  taking  a  business  vacation.  They  rode 
out  together,  read  the  papers  and  magazines,  even 
went  to  theatres  occasionally.  I  have  heard  their 
joint  laughter  coming  from  the  next  room,  over 


134  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

some  witticism  made  by  one  or  the  other,  and  a  chill 
has  run  down  my  spinal  column. 

Each  time  I  ascended  the  front  steps  I  looked  to 
see  if  the  undertaker's  insignia  ornamented  the 
handle  of  the  door.  Each  morning  I  scanned  my 
paper  to  see  if  among  the  news  items  there  was  an 
account  of  the  sudden  decease  of  George  Brixton, 
the  wealthy  manufacturer.  But  it  was  quite  four 
months  after  the  first  shock  before  the  second  one. 

Mrs.  Drew  was  a  religious  woman,  though,  as 
some  one  has  remarked  of  a  similar  case,  "  not 
offensively  so."  She  did  her  best  to  persuade  Brix- 
ton to  accept  the  offices  of  a  minister  of  the  church, 
without  exceeding  the  bounds  of  good  taste.  Smil- 
ingly thanking  her  for  her  kindness,  he  refused  to 
accept  her  advice,  saying  that  his  views  would  not 
permit  him  to  do  so. 

"Your  views?"  she  repeated.  "What  are  your 
views?  Don't  you  believe  in  another  life  after  this 
one  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  good-naturedly,  "  but 
I  mean  to  find  out.  Unless  Dr.  Robertson  is  mis- 
taken I  shall  learn  more  about  these  matters  in  a 
few  weeks  than  any  of  these  gentlemen  who  would 
be  so  willing  to  instruct  me  can  tell.  I  am  not 
impatient,  Ella  ;  I  can  wait." 

She  was  dissatisfied,  but  was  unwilling  to  an- 
noy him. 

"It  is  surely  well  to  repent  of  our  sins,"  she 
murmured. 

"And  I  have  repented  of  mine,"  he  answered, 
soberly.  "Their  punishment  already  has  been  very 
heavy.  If  more  is  still  due  I  will  accept  it  uncom- 


AN   ARTIFICIAL   RULE.  13t> 

i 

plainingly.     £    never  yet  asked   a  creditor    to    take 
less  than  a  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar." 

When  the  inevitable  hour  came,  Brixton  passed, 
seemingly  without  the  least  sensation  of  pain.  He 
was  talking  with  Blanche  in  his  library,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  sentence  he  stopped.  She  summoned 
assistance  and  Dr.  Robertson  was  sent  for,  but  the 
heart  had  ceased  to  beat  before  he  arrived.  The 
daughter  wept,  it  is  true,  but  with  a  calmness  that 
surprised  her  friends,  in  spite  of  what  they  had 
already  witnessed.  She  answered  all  questions  with 
fortitude  and  made  preparations  for  the  obsequies, 
saying  she  knew  exactly  what  her  father  desired  and 
would  not  depart  from  it  in  the  slightest  degree. 

It  was  not  a  funeral  at  all,  judged  by  the  usual 
standard.  The  dead  body  lay  during  one  forenoon 
in  the  library  where  he  had  died,  open  to  the  gaze 
of  any  of  his  acquaintances  who  cared  to  come 
Hundreds  of  people,  from  the  establishment  of  which 
he  had  been  the  head,  from  the  various  concerns 
that  had  dealt  with  him,  and  from  the  public  at 
large,  passed  into  that  room,  stood  for  a  moment  by 
the  bier,  and  then  went  their  ways.  At  one  o'clock 
the  more  intimate  friends  bade  good-bye  to  the  form 
they  had  loved,  the  daughter  last. 

Five  or  six  carriages  followed  the  casket  to  its 
burial  place  in  Markham.  Here  the  entire  town 
seemed  to  have  turned  out,  but  all  they  saw  was 
the  reverent  lowering  of  the  coffin  into  its  grave, 
without  a  prayer  or  a  hymn. 

The  next  Sunday  several  clergymen  took  this 
matter  as  a  text  for  their  sermons,  calling  the  atten- 
tion of  their  congregations  to  the  "heathen-like" 
interment,  and  thanking  God  that  such  events  were 


136  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

rare  indeed  in  this  part  of  the  world.  No  matter 
how  little  men  professed  to  believe  in  the  Gospel 
while  they  were  living,  they  generally  appealed  to  its 
ministers  when  the  dread  Angel  of  Death  had  spread 
its  wings  over  them.  So  said  the  clergymen  of 
many  churches,  but  not  those  of  Markham.  In  that 
town  they  realized  the  temper  of  the  people  too  wel/ 
and  maintained  a  discreet  silence. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

PROFESSIONAL  SERVICES. 

One  of  the  first  things  that  Blanche  did  after  the 
funeral  was  to  persuade  the  Drews  to  make  their 
home  again  with  her.  She  had  formed  a  deep 
attachment  for  all  of  them,  and  especially  for  Minnie, 
who  was  now  a  fine  girl  about  twenty  years  of  age. 
Mrs.  Drew,  bearing  in  mind  some  of  the  peculiar 
theories  that  Blanche  was  known  to  hold,  hesitated 
a  little  about  throwing  her  daughter  into  the  com- 
pany of  that  young  woman,  but  the  consideration 
that  she  herself  would  always  be  at  hand  to  counter- 
act any  possible  injurious  effect  turned  the  scale. 
And,  a  very  short  time  after  the  new  arrangement 
was  made,  an  affair  connected  with  her  daughter 
made  all  her  care  necessary  in  another  direction. 

Minnie  fell  in  love  ! 

Now,  there  is  nothing  remarkable  in  a  pretty  girl 
of  twenty  falling  in  love  ;  Mrs.  Drew  had  supposed 


PROFESSIONAL  SERVICES.  137 

that  such  an  event  would  happen  in  the  course  of 
time  with  her  daughter  as  well  as  others.  But  she 
did  not  quite  fancy  the  young  man  for  whom  Minnie 
had  gone  through  that  process. 

In  this,  it  is  only  fair  to  state,  she  did  not  differ 
from  many  other  mothers.  The  fond  parent  is  apt 
to  believe  that  there  are  few  men  fitted  to  mate  with 
the  treasure  they  have  been  at  such  pains  to  prepare 
for  him.  Young  Mr.  Bartlett  seemed,  however,  in 
the  anxious  eyes  of  this  mother,  to  lack  completely 
the  qualities  which  are  essential  to  success  in  this 
world,  to  have  much  less  than  is  necessary  of  enter- 
prise and  push. 

Although  twenty-five  years  of  age  he  still  lived  at 
his  father's,  and  apparently  had  no  expectations 
other  than  those  which  would  come  to  him  from 
that  source.  He  was  a  nice-appearing  fellow,  with 
his  clothes  and  hair  well  brushed,  and  his  shoes 
always  polished.  He  made  a  very  good  sort  of  lover, 
without  doubt,  but  would  he  shine  equally  well  as  a 
husband  ?  Mrs.  Drew  had  grave  doubts  on  this 
score,  and  used  to  talk  for  hours  to  her  husband 
about  it. 

Stephen  Drew  listened  to  all  that  was  said  and 
acquiesced  in  his  wife's  conclusions.  He  had  never 
done  anything  else  since  he  had  known  her.  He  did 
not  suggest  a  way  out  of  her  difficulty,  however,  and 
she  did  not  expect  that  he  would.  Minnie  loved  the 
young  man  with  all  her  heart,  and  it  looked  more 
dangerous  to  put  the  parental  foot  down  and  declare 
that  she  must  give  him  up  than  to  risk  the  other 
horn  of  the  dilemma.  So  it  was  settled  that  they 
were  to  be  married,  and  the  happiness  on  the  faces 


OF   WEDLOCK. 

of  the  engaged  couple  offset  in  a  measure  the  tears 
that  filled  the  eyes  of  their  elders. 

"I  hope  they'll  be  happy,"  Ella  said  to  Blanche, 
when  she  imparted  to  her  that  the  event  had  been 
decided  upon.  "Say  that  you  think  they  will!  "  she 
added,  pleadingly.  "  It  will  break  my  heart  if  Min- 
nie makes  a  mistake." 

Miss  Brixton  shook  her  head  with  a  serious  mien. 
"  I  don't  believe  in  it  at  all,"  she  said.     "  I  think 
the  time  for  that  sort  of  thing  has  passed." 
Mrs.  Drew's  brow  was  covered  with  wrinkles. 
"Oh,  what  do  you   mean  !"   she  cried.     "Would 
you  have  every  pretty  girl  grow  into  an  old  maid  ?" 

"That,"  answered  Blanche,  slowly, "I  would  leave 
to  herself  to  decide." 

The  matron  recognized  the  hated  theory  she  so 
much  detested,  and  raised  both  her  hands  in  pro- 
test. 

"We  must  never  talk  of  such  things,"  she  said. 
"  I  would  rather  see  Minnie  in  her  grave  than —  No, 
no  !  She  will  marry,  and  I  hope — I  hope  so  dearly — 
she  will  be  happy  ;  as  happy  as  Stephen  and  I  have 
been  !  Mr.  Bartlett  is  young  and  we  must  not  judge 
him  too  severely.  The  love  of  a  good  woman  has 
done  marvels  for  a  man  before  now." 

Blanche  took  up  a  magazine  she  had  laid  down 
and  said,  gently  : 

"  Very  well,  Mrs.  Drew." 

Ella  fidgeted  in  her  chair,  by  no  means  content  to 
let  the  conversation  end  in  this  abrupt  manner. 

"  You  have  heard,  surely,  of  cases  of  that  kind  ?" 
she  asked.  "Women  have  redeemed  even  the  most 
hardened  husbands,  many  times." 

"Yes,"  said  Blanche,  seeing  that  she  was  expected 


PROFESSIONAL   SERVICES.  139 

to  answer.  "  That  is  true.  It  is  also  true,  Mrs. 
Drew,  that  many  husbands  have  dragged  the  best  of 
wives  through  experiences  that  one  shudders  to  con- 
template. I  know  women,  and  so  do  you,  who 
would  be  a  thousand  times  happier  if  they  had 
remained  single.  I  tell  you  marriage  has  become  a 
lottery  in  which  the  great  prizes  are  so  few  that  they 
attract  the  world's  attention." 

"  You  think  the  chance  of  getting  a  good  husband 
is  worse  now  than  formerly?"  said  Mrs.  Drew,  inter- 
rogatively. 

"It  is  growing  worse  every  day,"  was  the  calm 
reply.  "And  the  reason  is  that  woman,  having 
become  more  intelligent,  suffers  under  the  anoma- 
/ous  condition  which  marriage  brings  to  her.  In 
spite  of  all  the  talk  one  hears,  the  wife  is  still  the 
property  of  her  lord.  She  must  submit  to  him  or 
make  him  submit  to  her.  -In  the  latter  case  she  will 
have  an  apology  for  a  husband,  that  will  only  earn 
her  the  derision  of  the  rest  of  her  sex.  There  are 
marriages  where  the  participants  are  still  happy,  but 
for  every  one  of  those,  there  are  a  hundred  where  all 
that  is  best  in  both  of  them  is  trampled  in  the 
mire." 

Mrs.  Drew  uttered  a  helpless  little  sigh. 

"  How  do  you  account  for  the  change  that  is  going 
•on  ?"  she  asked. 

"  By  the  fact  that  marriage  is  in  a  transitory 
period.  Have  you  ever  watched  the  evolution  of  a 
city  neighborhood  ?  First  there  is  a  street  of  good, 
plain,  ordinary  houses.  Then  business  creeps  in 
here  and  there,  the  better  class  of  residents  begin  to 
move  away,  a  disreputable  set  takes  their  places,  and 
finally  the  whole  thing  is  torn  down.  an4  great, 


140  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

modern  blocks  are  erected.  The  institution  of  mar- 
riage  has  reached  the  disreputable  state.  The  next 
era  will  bring  us  something  better." 

The  elder  lady  clasped  her  hands  together. 

"  If  you  think  such  things,  Blanche,  you  ought 
not  to  say  them,"  she  replied.  "  I  would  not  have 
Minnie  hear  you  for  anything." 

"  Have  no  fear,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  Knowing 
your  prejudices,  I  have  refrained  from  putting  any 
extra  sense  into  the  head  of  that  young  daughter  of 
yours.  If  she  comes  to  me  to  be  congratulated  on 
her  engagement,  I  shall  do  the  best  I  can  to  conceal 
my  apprehensions." 

Tears  filled  the  mother's  eyes. 

"You  hope  for  the  best,  I  am  sure,'*  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice. 

*'  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Blanche,  rising  and 
going  over  to  kiss  her. 

The  wedding  took  place  with  considerable  form- 
ality, as  that  was  the  wish  of  the  bride,  who  had 
many  friends  who  desired  to  witness  the  launching 
of  her  bark  on  what  most  young  people  believe  a 
lake  where  storms  are  unknown.  Their  mistake  is 
often  as  great  as  that  of  the  navigator  who  applied 
the  term  Pacific  to  one  of  the  most  tempestuous  of 
seas.  The  presents  were  "  numerous  and  costly," 
and  included  some  very  handsome  ones  from  Miss 
Brixton,  who  had  a  deep  affection  for  the  girl.  The 
•*  happy  couple  "  departed  on  a  tour  of  thirty  days, 
and  at  the  end  of  that  time  went  to  live  at  the 
residence  of  Mr.  Bartlett,  Sr. 

But  a  few  weeks  passed  before  Mrs.  Drew  came 
to  Blanche  with  a  long* face,  to  tell  her  that  the 


PBOFESSIONAL   SERVICES. 

prospect  of  motherhood  already  afflicted  her 
daughter. 

Miss  Brixton  stared  fixedly  at  the  lady  as  if  she 
could  not  comprehend  her  expressions. 

"  Minnie  to  be  a  mother  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  How 
happy  she  ought  to  be  I" 

"But  she  is  not!"  was  the  quick  reply.  "Just 
think  how  young  she  is  and  how  short  a  time  she 
has  been  married.  I  went  over  there  this  morning 
and  found  her  weeping  as  if  her  heart  would 
burst." 

Miss  Brixton's  eyes  opened  wider  than  before. 

"  You  had  a  child  when  you  were  no  older  than 
she  !" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Mrs.  Drew;  "but  things  are 
different  now.  It  is  the  modern  custom  to  wait 
awhile,  to  give  the  wife  an  opportunity  to  enjoy 
life  before  dragging  her  down  with  the  care  of  an 
infant.  Why,  it  will  make  an  old  woman  of  Minnie 
at  once.  She  can't  go  anywhere  for  the  next  two 
or  three  years.  I  consider  it  a  downright  mis- 
fortune." 

"  It  is  at  least  an  incident  to  be  expected,"  said 
Blanche,  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  see  that  she  has 
a  right  to  complain.  This  is  what  your  dearly  loved 
institution  of  marriage  brings,  Mrs.  Drew.  Mothers 
learn  to  dislike  their  offspring  before  they  can  see 
their  little  faces.  I  tell  you  it  is  horrible  1  I  would 
go  down  to  the  Grand  Central  Station,  and  throw 
myself  under  the  first  train,  before  I  would  give  any 
man  the  rights  over  me  that  the  marriage  covenant 
preseribes !" 

Mrs.  Drew  could  only  murmur : 

44 Oh,  Blanche!" 


14:2  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK. 

"  I  would  !"  repeated  the  girl,  throwing  back  her 
head.  "  Why  did  Minnie  marry,  if  the  prospect  ot 
motherhood  causes  her  such  grief  ?  She  could  have 
kept  up  her  engagement  and  enjoyed  the  society 
amusements  of  which  she  now  so  deeply  bemoans  the 
loss.  If  she  wanted  to  entertain  herself  for  the  next 
three  or  four  years  with  the  pleasures  offered  by 
fashion,  why  did  she  not  leave  herself  free  to  partici- 
pate in  them  ?  I  have  no  patience  with  such  folly 
No,  Mrs.  Drew,  I  must  speak  my  mind.  Common 
sense  seems  to  have  deserted  this  part  of  the  uni- 
verse. You  say  Minnie  is  grieved  because,  being 
married,  she  is  to  have  a  child.  How  does  she  know 
she  will  not  have  twenty  ?  Every  tear  she  sheds  is  a 
testimony  that  I  am  right  in  denouncing  the  entire 
edifice  of  matrimony  as  antiquated,  unsuitable, 
unfitted  for  the  intelligent  women  of  the  last  half  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century  !" 

Quite  carried  away  with  her  feelings,  Miss  Brix- 
ton  swept  from  the  room.  But  the  next  time  she 
met  Mrs.  Drew  she  went  up  to  her  impulsively  and 
put  her  arms  around  her  neck.  And  within  a  few 
days  she  called  on  Minnie  and  brought  her  some 
lovely  lace  for  the  garments  she  had  already  begun 
to  fabricate. 

Young  Mr.  Bartlett  evidently  considered  that  he 
had  now  done  about  all  that  should  be  expected  of 
him.  For  his  present  income  he  intended  to  rely  on 
the  $10,000  that  his  wife  possessed.  Minnie  believed 
that  she  only  did  the  right  thing  when  she  put  the 
whole  of  her  small  fortune  into  his  hands,  and 
allowed  him  to  invest  it  in  a  very  neat  business  of 
which  he  knew  nothing  except  that  it  would  not 
soil  his  clothes  ;  and  it  took  him  an  incredibly  short 


PKOFKSSIONA.L    SERVICES.  14:3 

time  to  lose  it  all,  with  the  help  of  a  few  "  flyers,'* 
in  the  stock  market.  He  had,  it  appeared,  gone  a 
little  beyond  the  bounds  of  honesty  in  these  trans- 
actions and  used  other  people's  names  without  con- 
sulting them.  And  the  result  was  that  about  a 
month  before  his  wife  expected  to  add  to  his  joys 
and  cares  he  executed  a  sudden  flight  for  parts 
unknown,  and  did  not  take  the  formality  of  leaving 
his  address  with  anyone. 

While  no  careful  arithmetician  could  make  out 
that  the  desertion  of  Mr.  Bartlett  was  of  any  partic- 
ular loss  to  Minnie — her  money  ?iavmg already  gone 
beyond  repair — she  had  the  bad  taste  to  get  herself 
into  a  violent  illness  over  it,  bringing  on  distressing 
complications.  As  the  Bartlett  family  were  not  very 
cordial  to  her  now,  she  accepted  the  hospitality  of 
her  mother  and  Miss  Brixton,  and  went  to  the 
latter's  home. 

Then  it  was  that  Blanche  laid  aside  for  the  nonce 
her  theories  and  her  r.evilings  at  the  world  in  general 
and  men  in  especial.  No  sister  could  have  given 
more  affectionate  care  than  she  gave  to  the  deserted 
wife.  She  comforted  her  by  repeated  assurances 
that  "Horace"  would  certainly  return.  She  in- 
serted in  a  Herald  "  Personal  "  an  announcement 
to  the  effect  that  if  H.  B.  would  communicate  with 
Mr.  Sparrow,  attorney-at-law,  Park  Place,  he  would 
hear  of  something  to  his  advantage.  She  also 
visited  the  indignant  creditors  of  young  Bartlett  and 
secured  a  writing  that  would  relieve  him  from  all 
danger  of  prosecution,  at  the  expense  to  her  pocket 
of  a  good  deal  of  money. 

With  the  new  hope  that  these  things  would  give 
to  Minnie,  Blanche  counted  on  bringing  her  through 


144  <WT  OP  WEDLOCK. 

all  right.  Dr.  Robertson  said  they  ought  to  have 
the  best  effect.  He  agreed  with  Blanche  that  Bart- 
lett  would  be  better  in  a  jail  than  by  the  side  of  the 
young  woman  he  had  proved  so  ill  fitted  to  care  for. 
They  only  thought,  however,  of  what  was  best  for 
the  wife.  If  they  could  get  him  there  before  the 
trial  hour  they  wanted  to  do  it.  But  Bartlett,  scared 
terribly  by  what  he  had  done,  was  in  the  far  West, 
hiding  in  a  ranche — where  he  officiated  as  a  cow- 
puncher,  to  the  great  loss  of  whiteness  of  his  pretty 
hands — and  knew  nothing  of  the  kindly  efforts  made 
in  his  behalf. 

All  the  kindness  that  was  showered  upon  the 
young  wife,  all  the  skill  of  the  most  competent 
physician,  failed  to  keep  her  from  relapsing  into 
such  a  state  that  her  life  was  for  some  days  in 
mortal  peril.  Affected  by  its  mother's  condition, 
no  doubt,  the  child  breathed  but  a  few  hours.  It 
was  just  as  well,  Mrs.  Drew  said,  in  a  way  that 
made  Blanche  shudder.  Minnie  would  be  better  off 
without  it,  the  way  matters  had  gone. 

Had  she  not  felt  that  the  cup  of  this  woman  was 
already  full,  Blanche  would  have  expressed  her  senti- 
ments on  this  observation  in  a  decidedly  sharp 
fashion. 

Miss  Brixton  had  observed  the  weak  condition  of 
the  infant  from  the  first  and  had  refused  to  believe, 
with  Dr.  Robertson,  that  life  could  not  be  kept  in  it. 
She  sent,  with  his  consent,  for  two  other  eminent 
physicians  and  begged  them,  if  there  was  any  virtue 
in  medicine,  to  save  the  child.  When  they  added 
their  opinion  to  his,  she  fell  on  her  Knees  by  the 
nurse  who  held  the  baby  w*  her  lao  and  went  scald- 
ing tears. 


fROFESSIONAL   SERVICES.  145 

So  little,  SO  sweet,  so  innocent !  Why  should  it 
touch  this  earthly  shore  so  brief  a  time  if  it  were  not 
to  be  permitted  to  remain  ! 

With  its  last  breath  Blanche  grew  so  ill  that  the 
attention  of  the  doctors  had  to  be  turned  to  her. 
This  girl,  who  had  borne  the  loss  of  a  father  with  an 
equanimity  that  astounded  us  all,  mourned  for 
another's  child  with  all  the  fervor  of  an  own  mother. 
Minnie  was  able  to  be  about  before  her  friend,  for 
Blanche  lay  more  than  a  month  on  her  sick  bed. 

"Ah!  The  little  thing  !  The  pretty  little  thing !" 
she  moaned,  day  and  night,  during  the  first  week. 

When  she  recovered,  her  spirits  were  so  low  that 
Dr.  Robertson  approved  of  her  suggestion  to  take  a 
foreign  journey.  Nothing  had  been  heard  of  Mr. 
Bartlett,  and  Minnie  was  taking  steps  to  sue  for  a 
divorce.  The  Drews,  including  their  daughter,  were 
to  stay  at  the  Brixton  residence,  and  Blanche  was  to 
travel  with  a  hired  companion. 


Miss  Brixton  was  gone  nearly  two  years,  during 
which  time  she  saw  a  great  deal  that  was  interesting 
and  instructive.  And  one  day  Dr.  Robertson 
received  a  letter  to  this  effect : 

•'  I  expect  to  reach  New  York,  on  the  '  Germanic*  about 
Aug.  nth.  I  shall  require  your  professional  services  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Sept.  2oth.  Yours  very  truly, 

••BLANCHE  BRIXTON." 

The  physician  read  this  letter  over  and  over  again, 

rubbing  his  spectacles  and  his  eyes  alternately. 
44  She  can't  mean— what  nonsense  f*  he  exclaimed,  a 


146  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

hundred  tfmes.  "She  wouldn't  be  such  a  fool,  with 
her  fortune  and  everything  in  the  world  to  look 
forward  to  1  But,  I  don't  know.  Her  father  was  a 
mule,  and  she  takes  after  him.  '  Professional  '  fiddle- 
Sticks  !  Confound  her,  she's  given  me  a  regular 
*tart  I" 


CHAPTER     XVI. 

"TOO   LOVELY   FOR   ANYTHING.** 

When  Mrs.  Drew  received  word  that  Miss  Brix- 
tofl  was  coming  home,  coupled  with  an  announce- 
ment much  plainer  than  the  one  which  had  been 
sent  to  the  physician,  she  was  thrown  into  a  state  of 
consternation. 

**  It  is  simply  dreadful  !"  she  said,  to  her  husband, 
when  she  had  read  him  the  letter.  "  I  don't  know 
how  we  can  stay  here.  Her  conduct  will  com- 
promise all  of  us.  Even  if  you  and  I  could  endure 
it,  think  of  its  effect  on  a  young  woman  like  Minnie. 
Her  mind  is  still  in  a  formative  condition,  and  who 
can  say  what  dangers  might  not  come  from  such 
an  example  ?" 

Stephen  assented,  as  he  always  did,  though  he 
may  have  entertained  doubts  whether  a  woman  who 


"TOO   LOVELY   FOB   ANYTHING."  147 

had  been  a  wife  and  mother,  and  was  now  a  di- 
vorced widow,  should  be  considered  in  the  light  of 
a  novice. 

Ella  was  in  a  serious  quandary.  She  loved 
Blanche  dearly,  both  for  her  own  sake  and  for  that  of 
her  father.  She  could  not  forget  the  kindness 
shown  to  Minnie  when  deserted  by  her  natural  pro- 
tector. Miss  Brixton  had  taken  the  financial 
troubles  of  Mrs.  Bartlett  upon  herself,  and  had  in- 
structed her  agents  to  honor  all  calls  she  made  upon 
them.  Under  this  state  of  things  it  seemed  pecu- 
liarly ungrateful  to  desert  Blanche  when  she  was  in 
most  need  of  her  services. 

'*  I  don't  see  how  I  can  stay  here,"  said  Mrs.  Drew 
to  her  husband,  "  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  leave. 
She  has  no  other  female  friend  nearly  as  close  as  I 
have  been.  She  writes  me  as  if  there  would  be  no 
question  about  it.  How  can  I  refuse  to  comply 
with  her  wishes  ?" 

Stephen  answered  that  he  did  not  see  how  she 
could. 

"But  won't  it  look  as  if  I  endorsed  her?"  queried 
his  wife.  *'  Won't  people  get  the  idea  that  we  are 
all  filled  with  these  immoral  ideas?  A  woman  has 
to  be  so  careful  of  her  reputation." 

'*  That  is  true,"  said  Stephen,  whose  sympathies 
were  largely  on  the  side  of  Miss  Brixton,  for  whom 
he  entertained  a  warm  admiration.  "  But  the  mis- 
chief is  done,  and  you  can't  help  it.  Show  yourself 
a  good  friend  to  her  and  it  may  have  an  effect  on 
her  future." 

Mrs.  Drew  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  Her  future,  Stephen  !  She  will  have  no  future. 
The  world  never  forgives  an  affair  of  that  kind, 


148  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

And  she  won't  even  ask  to  be  forgiven.  She  will 
come  home  as  proud  as  if  she  had  done  something 
to  her  credit.  She  has  warmed  these  theories  in  her 
breast  ever  since  she  was  a  child.  Oh,  it  is  enough 
to  drive  me  crazy  !'* 

Stephen  put  on  the  proper  look  of  sympathetic 
interest,  for  when  his  wife  talked  in  this  way  he 
believed  something  serious  was  the  matter. 

*'  And  Minnie — that  is  the  worst  of  it,  after  all,"  pur- 
sued Ella.  "  How  can  I  explain  it  to  her  ?  What  can 
I  say  to  defend  Blanche  ?  The  dear  girl  has  always 
had  such  a  high  opinion  of  her,  and  Blanche  has 
done  her  a  thousand  kindnesses  that  she  cannot  for- 
get. If  you  and  I  stay  here  Minnie  will  have  to  go 
somewhere.  One  can't  be  too  careful  when  the 
eternal  happiness  of  a  daughter  is  at  stake." 

Accordingly,  Mistress  Minnie  was  packed  off  to 
Markham,  where  she  had  many  friends,  and  the 
other  Drews,  with  Dr.  Robertson  and  myself  as  aux- 
iliaries, prepared  to  receive  the  coming  guest,  or 
rather  the  real  owner  of  the  premises.  It  occurs  to 
me  now  that  our  attitude  was  something  like  that 
assumed  by  a  regiment  anticipating  a  cavalry  charge, 
or  a  ship's  crew  ordered  to  repel  boarders.  We 
were  a  gloomy  set  of  people,  without  doubt,  and 
walked  about  the  house  on  tiptoe  as  if  afraid  to 
make  the  slightest  noise. 

"  I  should  think  there  was  a  funeral  going  on 
here,"  said  the  physician,  one  day. 

*  It's  worse  than  that,"  replied  Mrs.  Drew,  with  a 
sigh.  *'  There  are  some  things  more  terrible  than 
death,  doctor." 

•Dr.  Robertson  wore  a  look  of  profundity  as  be 
beard  her. 


"TOO  LOVELY   FOE  ANYTHING."  149 

"I  think  you  put  it  a  little  strong,"  hs  said,  "  but 
I  understand  the  way  you  view  it.  While  Society  is 
made  up  the  way  it  is  now,  death  is  at  least  one  of 
the  most  respectable  things  a  person  can  have 
happen  to  him.  I  hope,  however,  that  we  shall  not 
meet  Blanche  with  quite  so  funereal  an  aspect  as  we 
have  been  wearing  to  each  other.  She  is  like  other 
women,  I  suppose,  and  wants  to  see  a  little  sunshine 
when  she  steps  foot  after  so  long  a  time  on  the  soil 
of  her  native  country." 

An  attempt  at  greater  cheerfulness  was  then  made 
by  us  all,  but  on  the  whole  it  was  a  dismal  failure. 

"Who  is  going  to  the  steamer  to  meet  her?"  I 
asked  suddenly,  thinking  that  this  matter  was  one 
that  required  settling. 

Mr.  Drew  mildly  offered  to  go,  if  that  was  agree- 
able,  but  his  wife  put  in  a  very  decided  objection. 

"Stephen!  I  could  not  think  of  letting  you  do 
anything  of  the  kind." 

Dr.  Robertson  finally  volunteered,  and  this  met 
the  approval  of  all  parties.  He  greeted  his  patient 
on  the  deck  of  the  boat,  at  the  wharf,  and  she 
grasped  his  hand  with  a  pressure  that  showed  the 
most  perfect  health.  Blanche  was  looking  older 
than  when  she  went  away,  but  not  more  than  the 
two  extra  years  would  warrant.  Her  cheeks  wer« 
red  with  the  salt  breeze  and  her  eyes  were  as  bright 
as  diamonds. 

"  My  dear,  dear  doctor  !"  she  exclaimed,  regard- 
less of  the  listening  ears  that  were  about  them. 
14  You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  and  dear 
America  again.  You  haven't  changed  a  particle,  not 
a  white  hair  more  or  less.  It  was  so  sweet  of  you  to 
come  to  meet  me.  My  baggage  is  all  ready  to  be 


150  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

inspected,  and  Mathilde  here  has  everything  in  her 
charge.  Within  half  an  hour  we  shall  be  ready  to 
drive  to  the  house." 

When  they  were  being  taken  through  the  familiar 
streets  toward  her  home,  Miss  Brixton  broke  out 
into  many  expressions  of  rapture. 

"Europe  is  nice,"  she  said,  "  but  there's  nothing, 
after  all,  like  one's 'ain  countree.'  Tell  me  all  the 
news.  How  is  Ella,  and  dear  old  Steve,  and  poor 
little  Minnie?  Ah,  I  have  pitied  that  child  so  often, 
with  all  her  troubles,  her  young  life  wrecked  by  her 
idiotic  marriage  !  She's  got  the  divorce,  hasn't  she? 
Well,  that's  one  comfort ;  but  a  divorce  is  like 
getting  cured  of  the  small  pox — the  marks  remain. 
I  am  so  anxious  to  see  her.  I  suppose  they  are  all 
at  the  house,  prepared  to  give  me  a  royal  welcome  !" 

Dr.  Robertson  told  me  he  never  was  so  upset  in 
hfs  life  as  he  was  at  the  manner  of  Miss  Brixton  on 
this  occasion.  Her  spirits  were  at  their  very  high- 
est. She  had  never  looked  so  truly  lovely.  And 
she  seemed  to  expect  that  everyone  would  be  as 
delighted  as  she.  He  had  to  tell  her  that  Mrs.  Bart- 
lett  was  out  of  town,  but  he  adroitly  concealed  the 
reason  of  her  departure. 

**  Run  in  to-morrow,  if  you  can,"  Blanche  said  to 
him,  as  they  neared  her  home.  "  I  have  a  great  deal 
to  tell  you.  To-day  I  suppose  Ella  will  claim  all  of 
my  time.  I  am  impatient  to  see  the  dear  woman." 

I  think  we  had  some  sort  of  an  idea  of  standing  in 
a  row  in  the  front  hall  and  reciting  in  chorus  an  ode 
of  welcome,  but  luckily  we  thought  better  of  it. 
The  final  arrangement  was  that  Mrs.  Drew  would 
meet  Miss  Brixton,  and  that  Stephen  and  I  would 
drop  in  a  little  later,  when  the  strangeness  of  the  sit- 


"TOO   LOVELY    FOR   ANYTHING."  151 

nation  had  in  a  measure  worn  off.  But  Dr.  Robert 
son,  after  bringing  his  charge  and  her  maid  into  the 
house,  left  them  with  Ella  and  came  out  to  advise  us 
to  keep  out  of  the  way  for  the  present.  He  intimated 
that  it  would  take  more  than  ten  minutes  for  the 
women  to  get  upon  a  common  footing,  and  that  they 
had  best  be  given  all  the  time  they  wanted. 

The  meeting  between  the  old  friends  was  effus- 
ively joyful  on  the  part  of  one  and  reservedly  digni- 
fied on  the  part  of  the  other.  Miss  Brixton  was  so 
occupied,  however,  in  inspecting  the  premises  and 
running  her  eyes  over  the  furniture  and  walls,  that 
at  first  she  noticed  nothing  to  arouse  her  suspicion. 
She  was  shown  to  her  rooms,  neat  as  a  pin,  as  every- 
thing must  be  that  had  passed  under  the  eye  of  the 
model  housekeeper.  Mathilde  was  disposed  of  as 
quickly  as  possible  ;  and  the  moment  she  found  her* 
self  really  alone  with  Mrs.  Drew,  Blanche  opened  her 
arms  to  their  fullest  capacity,  and  stretched  herself  as 
if  she  would  take  all  America  in  her  embrace  at  once. 

"  Why  don't  you  congratulate  me  !"  she  cried,  rap- 
turously. 

The  two  women  must  have  made  an  interesting 
contrast.  The  younger  all  radiance,  almost  too 
happy  to  breathe,  the  other  with  her  cheeks  reddened 
from  a  far  different  cause. 

"Please!"  murmured  Mrs.  Drew,  suppltcatingly. 
"Please,  Blanche!  We  must  not  talk  about  it.  We 
never  could  agree — never  !  If  we  are  not  to  quarrel, 
we  must  avoid  that  subject." 

Miss  Brixton  laughed  patronizingly. 

•*  Very  well,'*  she  said.  "  It  shall  be  as  you  say. 
But  tell  me  all  about  your  family.  They  arc  both 
Well,  of  course.  Mr.  Drew  and  Minnie  ?" 


152  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

The  sound  of  her  daughter's  name,  spoken  so 
familiarly  by  those  lips,  struck  unpleasantly  upon 
the  ears  of  the  mother. 

"They  are  quite  well,"  she  said.  "But — don't 
think  me  unreasonable,  Blanche — let  us  not  speak  of 
them,  either.  It — it  really — gives  me  pain." 

The  face  of  Miss  Brixton  showed  the  most  intense 
sympathy. 

**  You  have  had  some  trouble,  poor  darling  !"  she 
murmured. 

"  No,  no  !  There  has  been  no  trouble — none  at 
all.  It  is  not  that ;  oh,  I  can't  explain  !  We  talked 
about  it,  Stephen  and  I — a  long  time.  And  we 
agreed  that  /  ought  to  stay  here,  but—** 

Miss  Brixton  stared  at  the  speaker, 

**  You  were  in  doubt  ?"  she  asked. 

"At  first.  I — there  is  Minnie  to  think  of,  you 
know—" 

There  was  a  long  pause  and  a  sigh  from  Blanche. 

**  You  thought,  perhaps,"  she  said, "  that  your  stay 
here  might  injure  her.  I  am  very  sorry.  I  will  not 
keep  you — no,  not  for  the  world.  Good-bye,  and— 
is  it  forever  ?" 

The  lady  burst  into  tears. 

"  Blanche,  don't  send  me  away,*1  she  sobbed.  "I 
couldn't  forgive  myself  if  I  went  now.  Don't  tell 
me  to  go  !** 

Miss  Brixton  quickly  withdrew  her  proposition, 
and  the  conversation  turned  upon  other  matters. 
Enough  had  been  said  to  show  Blanche  the  situation 
of  affairs.  She  carefully  avoided,  after  that,  trench- 
ing upon  disagreeable  ground,  in  her  talks  with 
Mrs.  Drew.  I  met  her  several  times  at  dinner  and 
no  one  would  have  suspected  from  what  was  said 


"TOO  LOVELY   FOB  ANYTHING."  153 

that  a  very  large  skeleton  lay  hid  and  grinning  in 
the  closet  behind  the  door. 

Dr.  Robertson  had  to  go  through  a  somewhat 
similar  experience  before  he  and  his  patient  had 
been  in  the  same  city  for  a  week.  With  his  blunt 
manner  he  precipitated  himself  into  the  middle  of 
the  subject  with  one  of  his  first  questions. 

"Why,  in  the  name  of  Goodness,"  he  demanded, 
"didn't  you  stay  abroad  a  few  months  longer? 
Then  you  could  have  pretended  that  your  child  was 
an  adopted  one,  and  nobody  could  have  disputed 
you,  whatever  they  might  have  thought." 

"  My  dear  doctor,"  replied  Blanche,  with  her  most 
winning  smile,  "how  persistently  you  misapprehend 
my  motives.  I  have  nothing  to  conceal.  No  wife 
since  the  creation  was  ever  happier  to  become  a 
mother.  I  know  I  am  doing  an  unusual  thing,  but 
from  my  own  standpoint  I  am  right,  all  the  Grundys 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding." 

The  physician  fumed  silently  as  he  listened. 

a  All  right !"  he  snapped.  "  Let  that  go.  There 
are  several  things  that  I  wonder  if  you  have  thought 
of.  I  suppose  you  know  your  child  will  not  be 
entitled  to  receive  a  penny  of  your  property  if  you 
die  And  women  do  die  under  such  circumstances,** 
he  added,  with  a  strong  touch  of  acerbity. 

"  But  /  am  not  going  to  !"  Blanche  responded, 
brightly.  "  I  assure  you  of  that  to  begin  with. 
There  is  no  law  to  prevent  my  making  a  will  and 
leaving  my  property  to  whom  I  please,  is  there  ?" 

*'  No,  but  there  ought  to  be,"  growled  the  phy- 
sician, half  audibly.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,** 
he  added,  raising  his  voice.  "  Who  is  your  child's 


154  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Miss  Brixton's  eyes  fell  before  those  of  her  i 
rogator.     For  an  instant  she  seemed  to  lose  her  self- 
possession.     But  she  did  not  speak. 

"  I  hardly  expected  you  would  tell  me,"  said  the 
doctor,  composedly.  "I  asked  out  of  no  mere 
curiosity.  I  only  thought  you  might  like,  in  case  of 
accident,  to  have  the  infant  know  its  father's 
name." 

Not  a  syllable  came  from  the  girl's  lips,  which 
were  now  tightly  compressed  together.  Tears  filled 
her  eyes. 

"You  must  admit,"  continued  the  physician,  "that 
there  is  a  possibility  that  you  will  not  arise  from 
the  illness  you  are  about  to  undergo.  In  your  case 
the  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  in  your  favoi,  bu* 
no  one  can  predict  these  results  with  certainty." 

He  waited  for  her  reply,  but  she  shook  het 
head. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you,"  she  said. 

He  bowed. 

"  Let  me  suggest,  then,  that  you  place  an  envelope 
containing  the  facts  in  the  hands  of  some  person,  to 
be  divulged  in  case — in  case  it  should  be  necessary." 

Blanche  looked  at  her  companion  earnestly. 

"  My  child  could  have  no  use  for  that  informa- 
tion," she  replied.  "  Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that  the 
father — is  dead." 

Used  as  he  was  to  everything,  the  old  physician 
plainly  showed  the  shock  he  felt  upon  hearing  this 
statement. 

"  But  the  child  will  want  a  name,"  he  remarked, 
desperately. 

"  If  it  is  a  boy  I  wish  it  called  Wallace  ;  if  a  girl, 
Miriam." 


"TOO   LOVELY   FOR  ANYTHING.1*  155 

**  And  the  surname —  " 

*'  Will  be  mine,  of  course." 

He  knew  he  might  as  well  try  to  change  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind  as  to  turn  her  from  her  purpose,  and 
he  abruptly  ended  the  conversation.  The  next  day  the 
lawyer  who  attended  to  the  Brixton  business  was 
sent  for  and  given  instructions  about  the  drawing  of 
a  will,  which  was  duly  signed  soon  after. 

Toward  the  last  Blanche  lost  a  little  of  her  cour- 
age, and  began  to  predict  that  she  would  not  survive 
her  trial. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  death,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Drew. 
"I  know  you  do  not  think  me  such  a  coward.  But 
all  my  soul  is  centred  on  my  baby.  No  one  can 
care  for  a  child  like  its  mother.  Ii  will  be  so  little 
and  helpless  !  It  will  want  so  many  things  !  When 
it  cries  no  one  else  will  understand.  Oh,  at  least  I 
want  to  live  long  enough  to  fondle  its  limbs,  to  look 
for  one  instant  at  its  tiny  face  !'* 

Miss  Brixton's  health  had  been  superb  for  years, 
and  it  stood  her  in  good  stead  now. 

"Blanche!  Wouldn't  you  like  to  look  at  Wal- 
lace ?"  asked  Mrs.  Drew's  voice,  and  the  invalid  heard 
it  with  a  feeble  cry  of  joy. 

The  boy's  face  was  red,  his  eyes  of  a  doubtful 
shade,  and  his  hair  too  scant  to  be  given  a  color  • 
but  the  mother  gazed  at  him  in  rapt  admiration. 

"Isn't  he  too  lovely  for  anything  !"  she  exclaimed, 
and  then  fell  into  a  calm  and  peaceful  slumber. 


156  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

AN   AMATEUR   DETECTIVE. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  an  event  like  this 
could  happen  in  an  American  city  without  attracting 
attention.  The  press  began  to  contain  veiled  refer- 
ences to  it.  Ministers  referred  to  it  in  their  sermons 
as  an  evidence  of  what  might  be  expected  when  the 
dictates  of  the  carnal  mind  were  followed  instead  of 
the  teachings  of  inspiration.  A  few  of  the  more 
"advanced  "  periodicals  dared  to  compliment  the 
young  mother  for  her  courage  in  facing  the  world 
to  defend  her  convictions.  But  the  great  majority 
of  people  found  Blanche  guilty  of  an  unpardonable 
offense,  and  wiped  her  off  their  books  without 
ceremony. 

An  unexpected  annoyance  was  early  noted,  for 
Miss  Brixton  cared  not  the  snap  of  her  finger  about 
what  the  clergymen  and  newspapers  did.  It  was 
the  burdening  of  her  mail  with  letters  from  men,  of 
individuals  who  apparently  called  themselves  so, 
approving  her  course  and  insinuating  that  their 
acquaintance  would  be  to  her  personal  advantage. 
Strong-minded  as  Blanche  was,  she  recoiled  so  at 
these  correspondents  that  she  turned  all  her  mail 
over  to  Dr.  Robertson,  begging  him  to  give  her  only 
such  of  it  as  he  thought  she  would  like  to  receive. 
The  beast  in  some  men  is  so  near  the  surface  that  it 
only  requires  the  least  encouragement  to  bring  it  into 
sight.  I  looked  over  those  letters  with  the  physician, 


AN    AMATEUR   DETECTIVE.  157 

learned  that  names  famous  enough  to  be  known 
the  country  over  had  been  signed  to  suggestions  at 
which  I  cannot  even  hint. 

Strange  as  had  been  the  conduct  of  George  Brix- 
ton's  daughter,  she  always  seemed  to  those  of  us  who 
knew  her  best  the  very  incarnation  of  high-minded- 
ness  and  modesty.  It  would  have  required  a 
temerity  not  often  found  to  say  anything  in  her 
presence  that  savored  of  indelicacy.  The  creatures 
who  wrote  her  the  letters  to  which  I  have  alluded 
were  to  be  excused,  in  a  measure,  by  the  fact  that 
they  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the  personality  of 
that  charming  girl.  They  knew  nothing  more  than 
that  she  was  a  mother  and  unmarried  ;  which,  in 
itself,  let  us  admit  in  all  fairness,  was  not  of  a  pre- 
possessing nature.  Had  they  seen  her  in  the 
wondrous  beauty  of  her  young  motherhood  they 
must  have  shrunk  abashed  from  their  own  base 
thoughts. 

It  can  hardly  be  said  that  Miss  Brixton  defied  the 
world  ;  she  rather  ignored  it.  She  did  not  flaunt 
her  conduct  in  its  face,  but  neither  did  she  hide  one 
atom  of  it  from  all  who  chose  to  gaze.  Her  delight 
in  her  little  one  was  complete.  Although  she  had  a 
nurse  especially  for  it,  she  did  most  of  the  necessary 
offices  herself.  A  suggestion  of  a  bottle  was  indig- 
nantly rejected.  Blanche  wanted  everybody  to 
understand  that  she  was  not  one  of  those  neglectful 
mothers  who  steal  for  fashion  or  pleasure  the  months 
that  belong  to  their  offspring.  She  rode  out  every 
afternoon  with  the  child,  when  the  weather  was  fair, 
not  seeking  to  attract  attention,  and  yet  going  boldly 
to  any  point  she  liked,  regardless  of  the  crowd. 

It  was  not  long  before  she  got  used  to  hearing  the 


158  OUT  OF   WEDLOC*. 

whispered,  "  That  is  she  !"  and  sometimes  the  sup« 
pressed  giggle  of  a  silly  woman  who  imagined  she 
had  perpetrated  a  witticism  upon  the  subject.  More 
than  this,  she  encountered  frowning  eyes,  those  of 
matrons  who  said  in  audible  voices,  "  I  should  think 
she  would  have  shame  enough  to  hide  her  head." 
Blanche  could  not  reply  to  such  people  without 
lowering  herself  by  a  wordy  combat,  and  she  chose 
the  easier  way  of  trying  to  live  down  their  resent- 
ment. Time  helped  a  great  deal  in  this,  but  as  long 
as  she  remained  in  New  York  she  never  quite 
escaped  being  a  mark  for  the  curiously  inclined. 

"  I  get  almost  exasperated  sometimes  when  I  hear 
these  things,"  she  said  to  us  at  table  one  evening. 
"  But  when  I  look  at  Wallace  he  pays  me  for 
tverything." 

I  say  "  us,"  but  at  the  time  the  Drews  were  away 
on  a  visit  to  Minnie,  and  only  Dr.  Robertson,  Mrs. 
Reynolds  and  myself  were  present. 

The  doctor  had  quit  arguing.  He  had  never 
given  up  a  single  inch  of  his  ground,  but  for  the 
sake  of  peace  he  kept  silence  when  he  could.  The 
attitude  that  I  assumed  was  more  acceptable  to  her, 
I  think,  for  I  would  not  contest  a  single  point.  It 
was  none  of  my  business  to  instruct  or  advise  her. 
It  was  really  to  me  that  she  confided  her  closest 
thoughts. 

"I've  another  lot  of  newspaper  clippings  for  you 
to-day,"  she  would  remark,  when  I  called.  "  Things 
are  getting  worse  and  worse  for  the  poor  married 
people.  Here  are  two  cases  of  husbands  beating 
their  wives, one  of  them  fatally.  A  woman  is  under 
arrest  for  poisoning  her  husband  in  order  to  marry 
her  lover.  An  unfortunate  young  girl  is  in  jail,  under 


AN    AMATEUR    DETECTIVE.  159 

the  charge  of  murdering  her  infant,  which  her  lord 
deserted.  Then  here  are  the  records  of  the  divorce 
courts  in  eleven  States — inconstancy,  desertion,  cruel- 
ty, drunkenness.  Marriage  is  a  great  institution, 
Mr.  Medford  !  I  don't  wonder  people  insist  on  call' 
ing  it  divine  /" 

I  knew  that  she  patronized  a  clipping  agency — 
Romeike's — and  I  took  the  pile  of  slips  she  gave  me, 
looking  with  interest  at  the  record  attached  to  each, 
showing  the  journal  from  which  it  was  taken,  and 
the  date  on  which  it  was  published. 

"  Here  is  one,"  she  said,  "  of  a  more  personal 
nature.  It  hazards  a  guess  as  to  the  paternity  of 
my  little  Wallace,  with  as  much  sangfroid  as  if  it  was 
flny  business  of  the  editor  or  his  readers.  There 
are  women  who  would  go  down  to  his  office  with  a 
horsewhip,  but  that  would  only  make  him  more 
notorious,  which  would  probably  please  him  too  well. 
I  do  not  understand  why  the  question  of  father- 
hood is  of  the  slightest  importance  to  any  human 
being.  There  is  a  country  in  Asia,  where  all  the  chil- 
dren take  the  name  of  their  mothers,  and  where  it  is 
considered  the  height  of  impoliteness  to  hint  at  their 
paternal  ancestry.  Under  the  European  rule  the 
mother  has  hardly  been  worth  discussing  at  all. 
Until  recently  she  had  very  few  legal  rights  in  her 
own  offspring,  though  she  contributes  ninety-nine  per 
cent,  to  its  life.  If  I  had  a  husband,  it  would  be 
within  the  power  of  a  judge  in  this  State  to  take 
my  child  and  consign  it  perpetually  to  his  care. 
They  might  as  well  claim  the  right  to  cut  out  my 
heart !" 

As  she  was  speaking,  the  nurse  brought  Master 
Wallace  into  the  room.  No  truthful  man  could  say 


160  OUT  OP   WEDLOCK. 

"no"  when  asked  by  the  happy  young  mother  if  he 
had  ever  seen  a  prettier  child.  He  was  darker  than 
his  mamma,  though  she  was  a  brunette.  His  hair 
had  now  grown  abundantly  and  was  inclined  to  curl. 
His  eyes  were  nearly  black,  like  hers. 

"  Come  to  your  mother,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
arms. 

The  boy  was  quick  to  hear  the  maternal  voice  and 
sprange  joyfully  into  her  embrace.  When  he  had 
nestled  in  her  lap  they  made  the  prettiest  picture  I 
ever  saw,  either  on  or  off  canvas.  Blanche  had 
wholly  recovered  her  health,  and  the  roses  played 
bewitchingly  with  her  dimples  as  she  pressed  the 
infant  to  her  full,  round  bosom. 

"  Wallace,"  she  said,  with  mock  gravity,  holding 
him  away  from  her,  "  take  your  thumb  out  of  your 
mouth  and  look  at  this  gentleman.  Do  you  realize 
that  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  make  you  a  pauper, 
by  running  away  with  all  your  money  to  Canada,  or 
Buenos  Ayres  or  some  of  those  terrible  places  ? 
How  would  it  suit  you  to  have  your  poor  mamma 
drag  you  about  the  street  in  a  hand-cart,  while  she 
sold  oranges  or  needles  and  thread  to  sympathetic 
passers  ?" 

I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  anomaly  presented 
before  my  eyes,  for  such  it  always  was,  thanks,  per- 
haps, to  my  imperfect  education  ;  at  least,  that  is 
what  Miss  Brixton  would  have  called  it.  Why  did 
not  something — be  it  ever  so  little — tell  of  this  girl's 
lowered  standard,  of  her  depraved  taste  ?  There 
was  absolutely  nothing.  Her  countenance  was  as 
pure  as  it  was  fair.  She  was  transfigured  by  the 
motherhood  that  can  make  even  a  plain  face  beauti- 
ful. It  was  evident  that  she  was  as  unconscious  of 


AN   AMATEUR   DETECTIVE.  161 

wrong  as  Adam  and  Eve  when  they  strayed  in  that 
first  twilight  through  the  leafy  groves  of  Eden.  If, 
like  them,  she  was  naked,  like  them  she  was  not 
ashamed  ! 

"The  story  of  this  child  would  be  an  entertaining 
one,"  I  suggested.  "  You  might  let  me  write  it  out. 
Then,  when  I  had  run  away  with  your  fortune,  you 
could  make  more  money  by  selling  it  than  with  your 
pins  and  needles." 

She  reddened,  not  guiltily,  but  from  the  very 
quality  of  her  full  veins. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  a  writer  of  fiction," 
she  answered. 

"  Neither  am  I ;  but  there  must  be  enough  in  the 
history  of  this  pretty  boy  without  drawing  on  one's 
inventive  powers,  to  make  a  most  fascinating  story." 

She  raised  the  child  again  from  her  lap  and  pressed 
her  lips  to  his  check. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  she  said,  suddenly,  looking 
me  full  in  the  face.  "  Do  you  hold  as  bad  an  opin- 
ion of  me  as  the  rest  of  them  ?  Do  you  really  con- 
sider me  lacking  in — what  shall  I  call  it — respect- 
ability ?" 

It  was  my  own  face  that  reddened  now. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  con* 
viction,  and  acting  as  if  not  the  least  offended. 
"This  is  the  test :  If  you  had  a  sister  you  wouldn't 
wish  her  to  associate  with  me.  There  is  Mrs.  Drew,, 
the  most  intimate  friend  I  ever  had  among  women, 
frightened  to  death  lest  her  divorced  daughter  should 
meet  a  girl  who  has  evaded  the  stiff  rules  that  have 
crushed  her.  I  have  not  one  friend  to-day  that 
deserves  to  be  called  such — neither  woman  nor  man. 
Of  course  you  treat  me  politely,  and  Dr.  Robertson 


162  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

comes  to  dinner  occasionally  ;  but  neither  of  you 
would  care  to  walk  down  the  avenue  with  me,  I'm 
very  certain.  It  is  not  surprising.  The  world  is 
tied  together  by  such  little  threads  that  people  fear 
to  break  a  single  one  of  them — or  rather,  to  admit 
having  done  so." 

"  You  \vere  gone  abroad  about  two  years,"  I 
remarked,  reminiscently. 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  did  you  spend  most  of  your  time  ?" 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile.  "  I  never 
talk  about  that  journey." 

"I  have  no  desire  to  pry  into  your  secrets,"  I 
answered.  "  But  I  am  thinking  of  crossing  the 
ocean  soon  myself,  and  I  felt  an  interest  in  discuss- 
ing the  matter  with  one  who  had  already  been 
there." 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  trace  of  suspicion,  which 
vanished  instantly.  - 

"A  good  guide-book  is  worth  more  to  you  than 
all  I  could  say,"  she  laughed.  "  I  did  not  know  you 
were  going,  though.  How  long  do  you  intend  to 
remain  ?" 

I  replied  that  that  would  depend  on  circum- 
stances. I  felt  the  need  of  a  change,  after  having 
devoted  myself  so  closely  to  business. 

"  Mr.  Sparrow  will  attend  to  your  interests,"  I 
added,  "  with  frequent  consultations  with  me 
through  the  mail,  of  course." 

She  allowed  me  to  kiss  the  baby,  remarking  that 
I  was  one  of  a  very  small  circle  who  was  permitted 
that  wonderful  privilege,  and  so  I  took  my  leave. 

That  evening,  after  retiring  to  my  bed,  the 
thought  came  over  me,  as  it  had  often  done  before, 


AN   AMATEUR   DETE  163 

th£c  i  ought  to  make  an  effort  to  icarn  sometmng 
about  the  origin  of  Master  Wallace  Brixton.  In  the 
process  of  time  it  was  very  possible  I  would  be  in 
the  position  of  a  trustee  for  him,  as  I  now  was  for 
his  mother.  There  are  rights  credited  even  t«  the 
child  that  is  unborn,  and  certainly  to  those  too 
young  and  helpless  to  speak  for  themselves. 

Miss  Brixton  would  not  talk  on  this  important 
theme.  Every  year  that  passed  would  make  it 
harder  to  ascertain  the  truth.  The  position  that  I 
occupied  relieved  me  from  the  charge  of  pruriency. 
But,  how  could  I  hope  to  uncover  a  mystery  so 
carefully  hidden  from  every  eye  ? 

If  I  could  learn  the  route  Miss  Brixton  ha(J 
travelled,  it  would  give  me  a  clew  to  begin  upon. 
Great  things  have  been  accomplished  from  smab 
suggestions.  A  bit  of  colored  netting  such  as  pool 
table  pockets  are  made  of  led  to  the  fixing  of  a 
murder  upon  a  man  who  collected  chips  from  a 
factory.  By  a  scratch  on  a  safe  door  Gaboriau's 
hero  traces  his  guilty  heroine.  It  would  amuse  me, 
if  nothing  else,  to  assume  the  rdle  of  an  amateur 
detective,  and  if,  after  all,  I  discovered  nothing,  no 
harm  would  be  done. 

There  was  but  one  person  in  whom  I  could  safely 
confide  my  plan — Mr.  Sparrow,  my  fellow  trustee  ; 
but  I  believe  a  secret  never  yet  was  kept  better  by 
two  persons  than  one,  and  I  said  nothing,  even  to 
him.  The  only  interview  I  had  was  with  Dr. 
Robertson,  and  that  was  conducted  in  such  a  way 
that  the  good  man  did  not  suspect  my  purpose.  He 
was  a  most  delightful  old  gentleman,  who  would 
have  made  an  excellent  subject  for  a  story,  all  by 
himself. 


164  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

The  talk  that  I  had  with  Robertson  occurred  the 
next  day  after  my  visit  to  Miss  Brixton,  last  referred 
to.  He  was  always  pleased  to  rehearse  the  story  as 
he  knew  it,  and  I  made  him  tell  it  to  me  again,  from 
the  beginning.  He  lay  back  in  his  office  chair  and 
talked  of  "George"  and  "Emma"  as  if  they  had 
been  his  children.  But  when  he  came  to  the  latest 
development  of  the  family's  peculiarity  he  grew 
animated  and  took  on  a  high  color. 

"Was  there  ever  anything  like  it  !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Here  is  a  young  woman  of  ordinary  sense  in  every- 
thing else,  with  good  looks,  with  a  fortune — equipped, 
in  short,  to  take  any  place  she  pleased  in  society.  And 
she  throws  it  all  away — every  chance  to  be  anything  or 
anybody — on  this  ridiculous  fad  !  I  lost  all  patience 
with  her  long  ago.  There'll  be  trouble  later,  when 
the  boy  grows  up.  He'll  tell  her  his  opinion  when 
he  finds  the  inconvenience  of  being  a — " 

The  doctor  growled  as  he  omitted  the  disagree- 
able word. 

"  Of  course  you  believe  his  father  is  dead  ?"  I  said. 

"Yes.  Blanche  has  faults  enough,  but  she  can't 
tell  an  untruth.  When  she  doesn't  wish  to  answer 
she  simply  closes  her  lips,  and  no  man  is  strong 
enough  to  compel  her  to  open  them." 

I  asked  him  incidentally  if  she  had  said  much  of 
her  journey  in  the  letters  she  wrote  him  from  abroad. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  hardly,"  he  replied.  "I  did  not 
have  above  ten  letters  altogether.  They  are  all 
here,"  and  he  exhibited  a  package  encased  in  a  rub- 
ber band,  taking  it  from  a  drawer  in  his  desk.  "  You 
may  look  them  over  and  welcome." 

He  tossed  them  to  me,  and  as  I  began  to  open 
a  patient's  call  took  the  physician  out  of  the 


AIT   AMATEUR   DETECTIVE.  365 

room.  It  was  very  opportune,  for  I  wanted  to  copy 
the  dates  without  attracting  his  attention.  I  took  up 
a  pencil  and  pad  and  began  writing  nervously  : 

"  Liverpool,  May  26  ;  London,  June  30  ;  Paris, 
Sept.  2."  This  was  the  way  they  ran.  "  Venice, 
Jan.  10  ;  Florence,  May  12  ;  Zurich,  Aug.  4."  A 
long  interval,  and  then  Algiers,  Constantino,  and 
afterwards  points  in  Spain,  and  the  final  letter 
announcing  that  she  was  coming  home. 

This  was  the  path  she  had  travelled.  It  was 
something  to  go  by,  and  it  would  certainly  have 
interested  a  man  like  Mr.  Sherlock  Holmes.  Not 
only  the  city  and  date  were  given,  but  usually  the 
hotel.  It  was  the  letter  dated  at  Algiers,  however, 
that  struck  me  particularly. 

"Well,  you  didn't  find  much  there,"  said  Dr. 
Robertson,  when  he  returned.  "  She  is  a  deep  girl, 
and  knew  enough  to  cover  her  tracks  well.  It  is  a 
shame  !  In  a  world  made  up  like  ours,  a  boy  is 
entitled  to  know  who  his  father  is.  Not  to  have 
the  least  information  about  it  leaves  him  in  a  devii 
of  a  state.  He  can't  tell  whether  he  is  the  offspring 
of  a  gentleman  or  a  robber.  One  of  these  days 
Blanche  will  wake  up  to  the  mischief  she's  done." 

I  agreed  with  him  in  a  mild  way,  for  it  was  my 
policy  not  to  take  strong  ground  with  anyone  who 
assumed  to  criticize  my  ward  too  severely. 

Five  weeks  later  I  alighted  from  a  Messageries 
Maratimes  steamer  at  Algiers,  and  registered  at  the 
beautifully  situated  Hotel  de  1'Oasis. 


OUT  OF    WEDLOCK. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IN   AND  ABOUT    ALGIERS. 


The  city  of  Algiers  is  certainly  one  of  the  loneliest 
places  on  the  habitable  globe.  As  seen  from  the 
Mediterranean  it  has  few  rivals  in  point  of  artificial 
attractions.  It  is  a  veritable  city  set  on  a  hill,  that 
cannot  be  hid.  Both  the  old  town,  or  Arab  quarter, 
and  the  new,  or  French  city,  are  visible  from  the  sea. 
The  prevailing,  almost  the  only  exterior,  of  the 
buildings  is  of  pure  white.  High  above  the  water 
front  a  grand  arcaded  street  is  built,  on  which  rows 
of  stately  buildings  face  the  mother  country,  looking 
exactly  as  if  they  had  been  taken  from  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli  and  transplanted  to  these  tropical  shores. 
Long  and  easily  ascended  ways  allow  the  wagon  or 
foot  passenger  to  reach  this  street  from  the  landing 
quay,  the  whole  affair  being  a  masterpiece  of 
architecture. 

For  a  short  distance  to  the  rear  of  the  hotels  the 
ground  is  nearly  level,  and  in  this  section  most  of 
the  shops,  the  theatres  and  some  most  engaging 
small  parks  are  found.  Beyond  these  the  hill  rises 
gradually,  giving  to  the  Moorish-like  edifices  the 
appearance  of  being  built  in  tiers,  and  ensuring 
magnificent  views  of  each.  The  best  of  carriage 
roads,  constructed  by  French  engineers,  who  have 
no  rivals  in  that  line,  wind  gracefully  to  the  summit 
of  this  elevation,  which  is  called  Mustapha  Superieur. 

The  climate  of  Algiers  has  few  equals,  and  during 


IN    AXD   ABOUT  ALGIERS.  167 

a  great  part  of  the  year  it  can  have  no  superior. 
Although  the  vegetation  indigenous  to  the  tropics 
flourishes  in  December  and  January,  there  is  seldom 
a  day  when  the  weather  is  uncomfortably  warm. 
On  the  hottest  in  thirteen  successive  years  the  ther- 
mometer registered  77  deg.  Fahrenheit,  and  on  the 
coldest  48  deg.  during  those  months.  This  is  several 
degrees  warmer  than  Nice  or  most  of  the  Riviera. 
I  found  a  tonic  in  the  air  that  acted  like  medicine  to 
my  tired  nerves  and  made  me  feel  as  if  I  could  spend 
the  entire  winter  there  without  wishing  to  go  further. 

The  street  scenes  are  most  inspiring  to  one  who 
sees,  for  the  first  time,  as  I  then  did,  that  mixture  of 
races  which  is  found  so  commonly  in  the  towns  of 
the  East.  At  every  step  is  met  the  veiled  wife  of 
the  Mahommedan,  with  her  Turkish  trousers,  her 
face  hid  in  an  impenetrability  that  the  foreigner 
seldom  succeeds  in  passing  ;  her  lord,  the  Othello- 
like  Arab,  with  his  turbaned  head,  his  white  burnous, 
and  an  air  that  stamps  him  as  the  most  dignified 
and  statuesque  of  men  ;  the  negro,  blacker  than  any 
ace  of  spades,  as  thoroughly  Mahommedan  in  relig- 
ion as  the  sons  of  Ishmael  ;  the  Kabyle,  of  a  stock 
somewhat  similar  to  the  Moors  and  yet  of  a  race 
apart,  his  women  having  their  faces  uncovered  ;  and 
besides  these,  representatives  of  almost  every  Europ- 
ean people,  attracted  either  by  business  or  pleasure 
to  this  princess  of  winter  resorts. 

A  writer  who  is  evidently  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  old  or  Arab  quarter  of  Algiers  describes  it 
so  well  that  I  feel  justified  in  quoting  a  few  lines  : 
"  The  streets,"  he  says,  "seem  a  curious  rendezvous 
for  Old  Testament  patriarchs  and  the  actors  in  the 
'  Arabian  Nights.'  The  idlers  on  the  floor  of  the 


168  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

Moorish  caf/t  over  their  coffee  and  draughts,  group 
themselves  like  a  picture  of  Joseph's  brethren.  It 
might  be  Abraham  or  Isaac  who  is  driving  the  flock 
of  brown  goats  or  asses  which  pusli  you  off  the 
pavement.  You  turn  up  some  steep  alley  with  the 
houses  meeting  overhead,  and  some  lovely  old  brass- 
worked  door  opens,  and  Morgiana  flits  out,  veiled 
in  white,  with  her  copper  water-jar  on  her  shoulder, 
giving  you  a  momentary  glimpse  of  cool  court-yards 
with  slender  pillars  and  bright  tiles.  Across  the 
sunlit  opening  at  the  top  of  the  alley  passes  a  slim, 
handsome  boy,  all  in  white  except  for  a  long  mantle 
of  grass-green.  Then  you  meet  a  Jewess  in  a  black 
skull-cap  and  a  dandy  in  slashed  blue  satin  over  a 
gold  vest." 

But  this  is  not  the  place  to  sing  the  loveliness  of 
Algiers  and  its  environs.  I  only  note  enough  of 
them  to  show  why  I  lingered  there  for  weeks  when 
the  investigations  I  had  begun  bore  no  fruit.  The 
pleasure  of  finding  such  a  hotel  as  that  of  the  Oasis, 
as  good  as  most  of  those  in  Paris  itself,  and  situated 
better  than  any  of  them,  helped  to  beguile  me.  The 
young  proprietor,  M.  Delrieu,  and  his  girl-wife  had 
evidently  learned  their  business  well.  It  was  very 
interesting  to  watch  the  latter,  then  at  an  age  when 
American  girls  would  be  conning  their  geographies 
and  grammars,  officiating  at  the  cashier's  desk  with 
all  the  gravity  of  one  twice  her  years,  and  giving 
orders  to  servants  in  a  tone  that  showed  how  com- 
petent she  feltr  for  the  management  of  her  depart- 
ment. And  there  was  a  head-porter  or  concierge 
named  Victor,  who  had  mastered  the  art  of  savoir 
faire  and  could  tell  you  anything  you  pleased  to 
inquire,  like  a  walking  encyclopaedia. 


IN   AND    ABOUT   ALOIERt.  169 

A  soon  discovered  that  Victor  remembered  Miss 
Brixton  well.  She  was  accompanied,  when  at  the 
hotel,  by  a  French  maid  and  an  Oriental  courier, 
whose  impressive  robes  made  a  sensation  among  the 
other  guests.  There  was  a  legend  that  Blanche  had 
said  that  she  always  felt  ill-dressed  in  the  presence 
of  this  magnificent  fellow,  in  his  blue  and  white. 
No,  Victor  did  not  remember  that  the  lady  had  any 
acquaintances  at  Algiers  ;  certainly  none  had  called 
for  her  at  the  hotel,  for  his  memory  was  perfect  in 
such  matters.  Miss  Brixton  had  spent  money  liber- 
ally, driving  a  great  deal,  going  to  the  theatre  and 
inspecting  every  quarter  of  the  city  with  care.  Her 
tips  to  the  employes  of  the  hotel  had  been  so  liberal 
as  to  make  her  a  marked  guest  among  them. 

She  did  not  stay  in  Algiers  steadily,  the  winter  she 
was  there,  although  she  retained  her  rooms.  She 
went  into  the  interior  with  her  maid  and  courier, 
sometimes  also  with  a  native  guide,  and  was  gone  as 
much  as  two  weeks  at  a  time.  Victor  was  positive 
that  nothing  resembling  a  gentleman  friend  had 
loomed  upon  the  horizon.  He  had  marked  that  fact 
and  commented  upon  it  to  his  wife,  who  was  a 
femmc  de  chambrc,  and  had  taken  care  of  Miss  Brix- 
ton's  apartments.  They  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  fair  Americaine  was  a  man-hater  ;  for  though 
she  dined  in  the  general  room,  and  was  the  subject 
of  many  admiring  glances,  she  seemed  wholly  blind 
to  the  interest  she  excited  among  the  masculine 
set. 

This  information  was  not  obtained  all  at  onee,  but 
piecemeal,  in  a  way  not  calculated  to  excite  undue 
suspicion.  Victor  received  the  five-franc  pieces  that 


170  OUT  OP   WEDLOCK. 

I  doled  out  to  him  and  gave  me  the  most  charming 
"  mercis  "  imaginable. 

But  that  was  all  the  good  it  did. 

Believing  that  I  should  only  waste  my  time  by 
prolonging  my  stay  in  the  city,  I  determined  to  tour 
the  rest  of  Algeria,  as  a  matter  of  pleasure.  The 
travellers  I  met  who  had  been  to  Constantine  and 
Biskra  gave  me  glowing  accounts  of  the  beauties  of 
those  places,  and  my  expectations  consoled  me  in 
some  degree  for  the  disappointment  I  had  ex- 
perienced. 

But  on  the  evening  before  I  was  to  leave  the  city 
of  Algiers  I  was  witness  to  a  most  novel  event.  It 
made  a  great  impression  upon  me,  and  I  can  do  no 
less  than  describe  it  here. 

I  was  strolling  at  random  through  the  town,  late  in 
the  afternoon,  when  my  attention  was  attracted  by 
what  may  have  been  either  a  military  review  or 
evening  drill.  A  regiment  of  soldiers  was  going 
through  manoeuvres  in  an  open  square  of  large 
size,  and  as  a  small  crowd  was  gathering  in  the 
vicinity,  I  followed  the  rest.  Before  the  parade  was 
dismissed  and  the  soldiers  had  returned  to  their 
barracks  I  was  treated  to  an  unusual  exhibition. 

The  troops  were  drawn  up  in  a  hollow  square, 
and  the  look  of  expectancy  on  every  face  showed 
that  something  unusual  was  about  to  occur.  A  dead 
silence  prevailed  for  some  seconds,  and  then  there 
emerged  from  a  military  prison  near  by  a  small  file 
of  soldiers,  guarding  a  man  and  marching  him  at  a 
quickstep  toward  the  main  body.  The  man  under 
guard  was  dressed  in  dilapidated  clothing,  the  coat 
of  which  was  of  military  cut  and  color.  He  was 
evidently  in  great  disgrace,  for  he  was  hurried  along 


IN    AND    ABOUT    ALGIERS.  171 

by  his  escort,  those  behind  him  carrying  their  bayo- 
nets uncomfortably  close  to  his  legs. 

It  was  now  evident  that  the  soldiers  were  drawn 
up  for  no  other  reason  than  to  witness  this  spectacle. 
The  drums  began  to  beat  a  doleful  tune,  to  which 
the  culprit  kept  time.  Twice  was  he  marched 
around  the  square,  and  then  the  detachment  that 
was  with  him  halted  in  front  of  the  chief  officers  of 
the  military  bodies  present.  A  man  in  the  uniform 
of  a  general  stepped  forward  and  in  a  very  haughty 
and  severe  tone  addressed  some  remarks  to  the 
prisoner,  for  such  he  undoubtedly  was.  My  near- 
ness to  the  parties  was  not  so  great  that  I  could 
hear  distinctly  what  was  said,  but  I  gathered  that 
the  prisoner  was  undergoing  a  sentence  for  some 
violation  of  rules  and  that  this  public  disgrace  was 
part  of  the  penalty  that  had  been  pronounced  upon 
him.  At  the  end  of  his  harangue  the  officer  deliber- 
ately cut  the  military  buttons  from  the  coat  worn  by 
the  other,  signifying  evidently  that  he  was  debarred 
from  wearing  those  emblems  of  the  service  he  had 
dishonored.  Then  the  man  was  marched  back  into 
his  jail,  the  band  struck  up  a  lively  tune,  and  the 
soldiers  were  soon  out  of  sight. 

Much  impressed  with  the  entire  affair,  I  could  not 
take  my  eyes  from  the  disgraced  prisoner.  It  struck 
me  that  he  bore  his  position  with  extraordinary  for- 
titude, considering  the  trying  circumstances  of  the 
case.  There  was  nothing  of  the  hangdog  look  in  his 
face  ;  nothing,  in  fact,  but  determination  and  cour- 
age. By  this  I  do  not  mean  bravado,  either.  He 
marched  to  the  step  set  for  him  by  the  drums,  as  if 
il  were  the  thing  to  do,  knowing  that  any  other 
course  would  be  met  with  the  severest  treatment. 


172  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

He  listened  respectfully  to  the  insulting  words  ot 
the  officer,  while  a  thousand  of  what  were  probably 
his  old  comrades  looked  on.  When  all  was  over  he 
obeyed  the  order  to  return  to  the  place  of  his  incar- 
ceration, just  as,  it  seemed  to  me,  he  would  have 
marched  to  the  knife  of  a  guillotine,  had  that  been 
the  destiny  in  store  for  him. 

During  the  major  portion  of  his  march  the  eyes  of 
the  prisoner  were  fixed  on  the  ground.  On  the  way 
back  to  the  jail,  however,  he  looked  about  him,  like 
one  who  knows  his  present  trial  is  nearly  ended  and 
allows  his  eyes  to  assume  their  natural  position.  I 
was  so  situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  that  I 
could  now  see  him  plainly.  The  impression  I  had 
formed  of  his  being  above  the  ordinary  soldier  in 
intellectual  endowment  was  strengthened.  As  he 
passed  near  me  his  gaze  met  mine.  I  suppose  my 
face  reflected  the  sympathy  I  felt,  perhaps  the  only 
sentiment  of  the  kind  in  all  that  throng,  either  civil 
or  military.  The  prisoner  had  but  a  fraction  of  a 
second  to  return  my  look,  but  in  that  brief  moment 
he  had  shot  a  glance  of  gratitude  that  moved  me  to' 
the  utmost.  When  he  had  passed  I  turned  away 
with  more  than  a  suspicion  of  moisture  in  my  eyes. 

I  wanted  to  ask  someone  the  history  of  this  man 
for  it  interested  me  greatly,  but  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  do  so.  I  dreaded  too  much  the  possibility 
of  hearing  that  he  had  done  something  which  would 
lower  him  beyond  repair  in  my  estimation.  His 
pathetic  figure  and  proud  face  had  made  an  im- 
pression on  my  rather  susceptible  imagination  that 
I  did  not  wish  effaced.  I  decided  that  it  was  better 
to  retain  this  picturesque  figure  in  my  memory  thaa 


IN    AND   ABOUT   ALGIERS.  173 

to  have  it  besmeared  and  defaced  by  such  an  uncom- 
promising iconoclast  as  Truth. 

For  the  next  three  months  I  wandered  over 
Algeria  and  Tunis,  more  and  more  bewitched  with 
the  fascinations  of  the  climate  and  the  people. 
Especially  do  I  love  the  Kabyle  race,  whose  sons 
combine  the  stature  of  the  North  American  Indian 
with  the  gentleness  of  the  Aztec  and  the  intelligence 
of  the  Japanese.  At  Biskra  I  never  tired  of  the 
Moorish  cafes,  where  the  dancing  girls  of  that  desert 
tribe  which  has  furnished  entertainment  of  this  sort 
for  centuries  sway  their  lithe  bodies  to  the  music  of 
weird  instruments  wholly  barbaric  in  form  and  tone. 
One  of  the  dancers,  a  creature  of  sixteen  or  there- 
abouts— who  combined  in  her  pretty  face  the  attri- 
butes of  the  Kabyle  and  the  European,  the  latter 
slightly  predominating,  and  bore  in  her  eyes  a  trace 
of  some  ancient  admixture  of  Nubian  blood — was  as 
pretty  as  any  piece  of  Dresden  ware. 

I  met  her  in  the  market  place  one  morning  with  a 
baby  in  her  arms  even  prettier  than  herself,  which  it 
took  but  a  glance  to  see  was  her  own. 

"  Qvf  tst  sen  fire  f"  I  asked,  and  she  answered  with 
all  imaginable  chic,  "  Tout le  monde" 

From  all  these  pleasures  I  tore  myself  as  spring 
approached,  though  the  delicious  climate  had  not 
yet  begun  to  be  uncomfortably  warm.  Returning 
to  Algiers  I  spent  a  few  days  in  trying  for  the  last 
time  to  learn  something  new  about  Miss  Brixton's 
stay  there,  but  without  avail.  And,  to  cap  the  cli- 
max, I  finally  received  a  letter  from  the  lady  her- 
self, in  which  the  irony  was  too  evident  to  be  mis* 
taken.  She  had  learned  of  my  visit  to  this  part  of 
Africa  and  had  guessed  that  it  might  not  be  wholUr 


174  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

unconnected  with  a  desire  to  penetrate  the  ...^-tery 
she  had  guarded  so  well. 

The  letter  had  made  the  rounds,  having  been  for- 
warded a  dozen  times,  and  the  envelope  was  well 
covered  with  postmarks.  Miss  Brixton  had  learned 
of  my  whereabouts  from  a  newspaper  paragraph — 
confound  the  reporter  who  wrote  it  ! — and  said  she 
could  not  help  expressing  a  hope  that  I  would  find 
pleasure  in  a  country  she  had  so  much  admired. 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me  your  destination,"  she 
said,  "for  having  passed  a  whole  winter  in  that 
section  I  might  have  been  able  to  tell  you  something 
of  value.  This  will  probably  reach  you  too  late  to 
be  of  service.  All  I  can  do,  then,  is  to  beg  you,  if 
you  will  be  so  kind,  to  remember  me  to  M.  and 
Mme.  Delrieu,  of  the  Hotel  de  1'Oasis,  and  to  Victor, 
the  concierge,  and  his  wife.  If  you  go  from  Algiers 
to  Spain,  you  will  find  the  Roma  the  best  hotel  in 
Malaga,  and  the  Madrid  the  best  not  only  in  Seville 
but  in  all  the  Peninsular.  When  are  you  to  return 
to  America?  I  shall  be  glad  to  meet  you  again  now 
you  have  visited  scenes  where  I  experienced  so  much 
pleasure." 

It  was  easy  to  detect  the  sarcasm  beneath  these 
apparently  innocent  lines.  Miss  Brixton  suspected 
that  I  was  upon  her  track  and  wished  me  to  under- 
stand that  she  laughed  at  my  endeavors.  Her  men- 
tion of  Spain  convinced  me  that  she  believed  I  would 
follow  her  footsteps  to  that  country,  from  Africa. 
She  took  pains  not  only  to  mention  the  cities  but 
the  very  hotels  at  which  she  had  stopped.  She  had 
no  fear  that  I  would  discover  anything,  and  her  de- 
rision seemed  well  founded.  I  had  been  abroad  five 


MHE   INSULTED   A   WOMAN."  175 

months  and  had  seen  nothing  that  in  the  least 
explained  the  great  puzzle  I  had  started  so  blithely 
to  solve. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"HE     INSULTED     A     WOMAN." 

My  way  to  Spain  was  via  Oran,  where  I  was  to 
take  a  steamer  to  Malaga.  Most  of  the  country  on 
the  way  is  of  an  uninteresting  nature,  but  there  are 
occasioaal  points  where  the  traveller  may  stay  over 
with  profit. 

5  walked  about  Oran  for  a  day  or  two,  taking  in 
th«  views  and  learning  the  eventful  history  of  the 
plaee,  which  has  been  the  prey  successively  of  the 
Berbers,  Turks,  Spaniards,  Moors  and  French.  The 
site  was  also  occupied  by  the  Romans,  whose  medals 
—those  ever  testifying  evidences  of  the  huge  paper 
chase  performed  by  the  world's  conquerors — are 
still  found  occasionally  by  some  excavator.  Although 
most  of  the  present  inhabitants  are  of  anything  but 
French  origin,  the  town,  like  everything  else  that 
the  Gaul  controls,  is  French  in  government  to  the 
smallest  particular.  I  contend  that  the  Frenchman 
makes  the  best  colonist  on  African  soil,  and  that  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  for  Morocco  and  the  world 
at  large  if  every  foot  of  that  belated  empire  was 
under  the  direction  of  the  Elys6e. 

The  boats  that  cross  to  the  European  coast  are 
good  enough  affairs,  not  remarkably  large  or  fast, 


176  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK:. 

but  endurable.  There  were  few  passengers  on  the 
one  I  took,  and  after  we  had  started,  which  was  in 
the  evening,  I  went  upon  the  deck  to  have  a  smoke 
and  enjoy  the  seclusion  of  a  calm  and  rather  dark 
tropical  night. 

There  were  not  many  settees,  and  what  there 
were,  scattered  as  far  apart  as  possible.  An  English 
clergyman  of  the  Established  Church,  with  his  wife, 
occupied  one  of  these  ;  a  Frenchman  with  what 
appeared  to  be  a  very  recently  wedded  bride  had 
another  ;  and  three  Spanish  friends  a  third.  I  was 
not  surprised,  therefore,  when  a  gentleman  who 
had  just  come  up  the  stairway  approached  me 
politely,  and  said,  "  Pardon,  monsieur,  but  I  think 
you  have  room  for  me." 

The  expression  was  in  French,  and  though  I  am 
by  no  means  an  expert  in  that  language,  I  have  no 
difficulty  either  in  understanding  it  or  in  making 
myself  understood. 

One  of  the  pleasantcst  things  to  me  in  foreign  jour- 
neys, let  me  say  in  passing,  is  the  almost  unvarying 
cpurtesy  and  good  fellowship  I  have  met  with  from 
travellers  of  other  nationalities.  In  countries  where 
I  have  had  but  the  most  meagre  command  of  the 
language  I  have  found  natives  so  polite,  so  anxious 
to  explain  a  knotty  point  or  to  do  me  a  favor,  that  I 
have  blushed  at  the  contrast  with  my  own  country- 
men on  like  occasions.  In  America  the  struggle  of 
a  foreigner  with  the  English  tongue  is  considered  a 
thing  for  mirth,  seldom  wholly  restrained,  even  in 
the  best  circles.  The  inability  of  a  person  to  speak 
English  is  taken  to  imply  ignorance  on  his  part  so 
gross  as  to  be  astonishing.  In  other  lands,  on  the 
contrary,  the  traveller  who  finds  himself  in  a 


HE    IK8DLTED    A    WOMAN. 


177 


dilemma  is  offered  the  best  services  of  everyone  to 
whom  he  applies.  A  Frenchman  once  told  me  that 
the  reason  his  people  did  not  laugh  at  mispronounced 
French  was  because  it  had  for  them  no  element  of 
humor.  He  could  not  understand  why  it  seemed 
funny  to  anyone.  A  very  sensible  way  of  looking 
at  it,  it  seems  to  me. 

I  therefore  said,  "  Certainly,  monsieur,"  to  the 
stranger  and  further  showed  my  good-will  by  offer- 
ing him  a  cigar,  which  he  accepted.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  were  talking  familiarly,  as  travellers  do. 
It  was  not  light  enough  to  make  out  his  features 
distinctly,  but  his  voice  had  a  melodious  sound  that 
was  most  agreeable.  Learning  that  I  had  been  all 
winter  in  Africa  he  asked  what  part  I  liked  best,  to 
which  I  responded  that,  on  the  whole,  I  preferred 
Algiers. 

"  Do  you  !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  cynical  tone.  al 
think  it  the  most  detestable  spot  on  the  globe  !" 

"Perhaps  you  did  not  remain  long  enough  to 
appreciate  its  beauties,"  I  suggested,  mildly. 

"I  have  been  there  five  or  six  years,  most  of  the 
time,"  he  responded,  with  a  laugh  that  was  distinctly 
disagreeable. 

I  wished  it  were  light  enough  to  see  his  face.  The 
mention  of  the  word  "  Algiers "  seemed  to  have 
wrought  a  complete  change  in  him. 

"  For  a  man  who  disliked  it  so  much,  you  made  a 
fairly  long  stay,"  I  remarked. 

*'  Yes,"  he  replied  ;  "but  sometimes  there  are  cir- 
cumstances over  which  one  has  no  control." 

I  begged  his  pardon  for  the  inquisitiveness  I  had 
unintentionally  exhibited,  but  he  disclaimed  the 
least  offense,  and  his  voice  again  took  on  the  tone 


178  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

that  had  pleased  me.  Learning  that  I  was  an 
American — a  Continental  European  seldom  knows 
how  to  distinguish  us  from  the  English — he  showed 
a  deep  interest  in  my  country  and  overwhelmed  me 
with  questions  about  it.^  He  said  he  had  long 
wished  to  cross  the  Atlantic  and  believed  he  should 
soon  do  so. 

"Then  you  will  not  return  to  Algiers,"  I  remarked, 
innocently. 

" Diable !  I  hope  not!"  he  exclaimed,  and  I  saw 
that  I  had  unwittingly  touched  a  tender  place  again. 
"  No,  I  never  mean  to  see  that  cursed  spot !  I  shall 
visit  some  relations  in  Spain,  and  then,  if  I  do  not 
change  my  mind,  I  shall  go  to  France." 

The  moon  had  begun  to  rise  and  as  the  night  grew 
lighter  I  glanced  with  great  interest  toward  my 
companion.  His  figure  outlined  itself  by  degrees, 
but  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  discern  his 
features.  As  we  were  sitting,  my  own  face  came 
first  into  the  light  and  I  fancied  my  companion  was 
looking  at  it  intently,  as  if  he  had  discovered  some- 
thing in  it  of  peculiar  interest.  Suddenly  the  moon 
shone  out,  and  as  if  a  curtain  had  been  drawn  away, 
I  saw  distinctly  the  man  who  occupied  the  seat 
with  me. 

"  You  recognize  me,"  he  said,  with  an  uneasy 
laugh. 

I  bowed.  He  was  the  man  who  had  been  marched 
around  the  dravvn-up  ranks  of  soldiers,  then  rep- 
rimanded and  taken  back  to  confinement ! 

"You  are  not  flattered  at  discovering  with  whom 
you  have  been  talking  so  long."  he  said.  "Well,  I 
do  not  blame  you.  And  yet,  when  I  saw  you  that 


"  HE   INSULTED   A   WOMAN."  179 

day,  I  believed  there  was  in  your  eyes  the  quality  of 
mercy." 

I  hastened  to  assure  him  that  he  was  judging  me 
too  quickly,  if  he  imagined  I  had  any  disposition  to 
avoid  him.  I  admitted  that  I  was  slightly  affected 
by  the  unexpectedness  of  the  occurrence,  but  that  I 
was  quite  as  glad  to  have  him  for  a  companion  as  if 
I  had  not  been  the  witness  of  his  unhappy  experi- 
ence. 

"  You  are  not  a  Frenchman,"  said  he,  after  return- 
ing a  low  bow  to  my  remarks.  "  Otherwise  you 
would  modify  the  sentiments  which  you  mention, 
and  which  I  am  bound  to  believe  you  state  correctly. 
It  is  plain  to  you  that  I  have  been  undergoing  the 
sentence  of  a  court-martial,  for  an  offense  of  which 
I  was  adjudged  guilty.  It  is  all  very  well  for  a 
convicted  man  to  declare  himself  innocent — they  all 
do  that — but  people  are  not  supposed  to  believe  them. 
Having,  then,  according  to  the  record,  disgraced  my 
service,  my  family  and  my  rank,  I  could  only  live  in 
peace  in  France  by  assuming  a  false  name  and  hid- 
ing myself  cither  in  some  country  village,  or  in  the 
corners  of  our  great  capital.  Neither  of  these  things 
am  I  willing  to  do,  and  I  shall  consequently  either 
emigrate  to  America,  or  go  to  some  other  distant 
point  where  I  am  unlikely  to  meet  many  of  my 
countrymen." 

I  again  begged  my  companion  to  believe  that  he 
had  not  read  incorrectly  the  sentiments  which 
affected  me  on  the  day  I  first  saw  him  ;  and  I  added 
that  I  could  say  with  equal  earnestness  that  I  felt 
assured  that  an  injustice  had  been  done  him  in  some 
way. 

"  You  are  most  kind  to  say  so,"  he  answered.    "  If 


180  our  or  WEDLOCK. 

we  remain  long  together  I  will  tell  you  the  simple 
truth  about  the  whole  affair,  and  you  may  judge 
whether  I  have  been  wronged.  For  the  present  let 
us  leave  a  disagreeable  subject.  Will  you  kindly 
tell  me  whether  you  are  a  member  of  any  of  the  pro- 
fessions, or  whether  you  are  engaged  in  commercial 
pursuits.  Though,"  he  added,  with  a  winning  smile, 
"  Americans  are  so  stupendously  wealthy,  I  suppose 
few  of  them  do  anything  toward  gaining  a  liveli- 
hood." 

In  response  I  handed  him  my  card  and  received 
his  own.  On  his  were  engraved  the  words,  "  Mau- 
rice Olivier  Fantelli." 

One  of  the  first  things  that  my  new  friend  asked 
was  that  I  should  call  him  "  Maurice,"  to  which  I 
consented  with  some  demur.  We  passed  a  pleasant 
evening  and  the  next  day  he  agreed  to  go  with  me 
through  the  southern  part  of  Spain,  as  he  had  some 
days  to  spare  before  he  expected  his  brother  to  meet 
him. 

A  description  of  the  pleasures  of  our  journey 
would  be  superfluous  here.  But  you  may  find  more 
interesting  an  account  of  some  conversations  that  I 
had  with  M.  Fantelli,  occurring  from  time  to  time 
on  the  trains  as  we  passed  through  the  country. 

"Your  name  is  not  wholly  French,  is  it?"  I  asked 
him,  one  day.  "  It  sounds  to  me  as  if  it  had  an 
Italian  origin." 

"  You  are  partly  right,"  said  he.  "  It  was  originally 
Corsican,  like  that  of  the  Buonapartes.  But  we  think 
ourselves  as  French  now  as  the  President.  My 
family  has  been  very  proud  of  its  standing,  our 
representatives  having  held  office  under  most  of  the 
recent  legitimate  sovereigns  and  been  selected  for 


"IIK    INSULTED    A   WOMAN."  181 

important  posts  even  under  the  Republic.  This 
generation  is  the  first,"  he  added,  bitterly,  "to  be 
accused  of  sullying  its  fair  name." 

I  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  remind  my 
friend  that  he  had  not  yet  told  me  anything  of  the 
trouble  to  which  he  referred. 

"  I  will  not  deny  that  my  curiosity  has  been  much 
excited  over  your  case,"  I  said.  "  I  felt,  even  by 
that  brief  look  in  your  eyes,  when  you  were  marched 
by  me  a  prisoner,  that  you  were  the  victim  of  some 
terrible  wrong.  My  closer  acquaintance  makes  me 
all  the  more  certain  that  such  is  the  case — that  you 
must  have  been  punished  for  an  offense  you  never 
committed." 

He  paused  for  some  seconds,  apparently  engrossed 
with  the  hedges  that  lined  the  railway  for  miles — 
hedges  from  whence  come  the  red  and  white  roses 
that  adorn  the  dark  tresses  of  the  Spanish  beauties 
at  church,  theatre  and  ball. 

"  I  intend  to  tell  you  everything,  by-and-by,"  he 
said,  slowly.  "  To-day  let  me  only  correct  you  in 
one  important  point.  The  offense  with  which  I  was 
charged  was  one  I  really  did  commit.  It  was  an 
attempt  on  the  life  of  a  brother  officer.  The  fact 
was  as  stated  in  the  complaint — I  did  my  best  to 
kill  him.  Had  I  succeeded  I  might  not  be  sitting 
here  talking  with  you.  Luckily,  as  I  now  view  it, 
the  bullet  I  fired  did  not  penetrate  as  deeply  as  I 
intended  it  should." 

I  was  surprised  at  this  confession,  which  I  had  not 
in  the  least  anticipated.  Fantelli  looked  at  me 
searchingly,  to  note  the  effect  of  his  statement,  and 
I  did  my  best  to  conceal  the  shock  it  gave  me. 

*  Before  you  condemn  me  too  severely,"  he  said, 


1S2  OCT    OF    WEDLOCK. 

"  let  me  vouchsafe  a  word  of  explanation.  In  raising 
my  hand  against  that  man  I  had  no  private  grief  to 
satisfy.  We  had  been  friends  for  years — were  at  that 
very  time,  or  a  moment  before,  the  closest  comrades 
in  our  division.  What  was  the  matter,  then  ?  He 
did  something  that  I  cou4d  not  forgive  in  any  man, 
no  matter  what  ties  bound  him  to  me.  He  insulted 
a  woman  in  my  presence." 


CHAPTER   XX 

FANTELLI    ASTONISHED. 

It  was  growing  interesting.  The  closing  statement 
had  indeed  put  a  different  aspect  on  the  affair.  My 
friend  was  no  ordinary  assassin,  no  mere  quick- 
tempered slasher  who  could  not  control  his  temper 
when  his  pride  was  touched,  but  a  chevalier  who 
had  resented  an  injury  to  the  feelings  of  a  lady ! 

"  It  must  have  been  a  very  gross  insult,"  I 
suggested. 

"  It  was.  So  gross  that  I  found  my  blood  on  fire 
in  an  instant,  and  grasping  a  revolver  I  discharged 
it  at  my  whilom  friend  before  I  had  time  to  form  a 
thought.  In  due  time  I  was  put  on  my  trial.  In 
spite  of  all  attempts  to  entrap  me  I  refused  to 
explain  the  cause  of  my  act.  My  brother  soldier  did 
all  he  could  to  save  me,  though  his  hurt  was  so  great 
that  he  had  to  leave  the  service,  and  I  fear  will  never 
fully  recover.  My  sentence,  at  first  much  more 
severe,  was  commuted  at  last  to  five  years  imprison- 


PANTELLI    ASTONISHED.  183 

ment,  with  a  semi-annual  proceeding  of  the  kind  you 
witnessed.  To  the  untiring  efforts  of  the  man  I 
wounded  I  am  indebted  for  the  pardon  which  has 
set  me  free,  but  leaves  me  little  better  than  an  alien 
of  the  country  to  which  I  would  gladly  give  my  life." 

The  concluding  words  were  spoken  with  deep 
feeling  and  enlisted  my  warmest  sympathy.  As 
Maurice  had  relapsed  into  silence  I  did  not  annoy 
him  by  questions,  though  I  wanted  very  much  to 
hear  fuller  particulars.  It  was  several  days  later, 
after  we  had  visited  Grenada  and  were  on  our  way 
to  Seville,  that  the  matter  was  referred  to  again. 

"  Does  the  lady  for  whom  you  struck  your  brother 
officer  know  of  the  trouble  your  act  has  caused  you  ?" 
I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  She  should  have  been  profoundly  grateful,"  I 
said.  "  I  hope  her  actions  showed  that  she  appre- 
ciated it." 

"  Ah,"  he  answered,  "  there  was  no  question  of 
that  !" 

Ashamed  to  draw  him  out  piecemeal,  as  I  was 
doing,  I  could  not  help,  nevertheless,  from  pursuing 
my  investigations. 

"  A  romance  has  sprung  before  now  out  of  a  lesser 
circumstance,"  I  suggested.  "  To  make  it  complete 
in  your  case  this  lady  should  have  married  you." 

He  shifted  uneasily  in  his  place  and  waited  a 
minute  before  replying. 

"  A  man  under  sentence — a  disgraced  man, — is 
not  the  finest  match  in  the  world,"  he  said. 
**  Besides — the  fact  is — I  am  married." 

I  said  "  Oh  !"  and  bade  adieu  regretfully  to  what 


184:  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

I  had    hoped    would    prove   a    more    entertaining 
episode. 

"You  have  spoken  of  your  brother  officer  so  often 
and  never  of  your  wife,"  I  explained,  "  that  I  natur- 
ally supposed  you  single.  And  madame,  she  is  in 
France,  I  presume  ?" 

A  strange  mixture  of  emotions  convulsed  my 
companion's  features.  - 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  seen  her,"  he  said. 
"  We  have  separated  for  good — a  sort  of  American 
custom,  is  it  not?  I  have  heard  that  your  marriage 
ties  are  very  easily  arranged." 

I  could  not  help  asking  just  one  more  question, 
when  he  had  last  seen  the  lady  in  whose  behalf 
he  had  made  so  great  a  sacrifice.  He  answered 
that  his  arrest  had  prevented  his  seeing  anyone 
until  within  the  present  month. 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  you  will  now  seek  to  renew  your 
acquaintance  with  her.* 

"Although  I  am  married  !"  he  replied,  with  a 
rising  inflection. 

"  There  are  friendships  that  do  not  depend  on 
love,"  I  replied,  with  some  confusion. 

"  Even  between  men  and  women  ?"  he  asked, 
eyeing  me  narrotvly. 

"Certainly.     Some  of  the  best  and  truest." 

He  looked  at  me  earnestly. 

"I  believe  you  wholly,"  he  said.  "  In  spite  of  at! 
the  evil  there  is  in  the  world,  some  hearts  remain 
true  and  good.  But  in  the  case  to  which  you  refer 
I  fear  my  presence  would  not  be  welcome.  I  should 
only  recall  a  scene  that  must  have  been  very  dis» 
tasteful." 


FANTELI.I    ASTONISH  KD.  185 

"But  the  lady,"  I  asked.  "Was  she  of  your 
country  ?" 

"  No,  she  was  English  ;  or  perhaps  American.  I 
know  she  spoke  the  English  tongue,  though  I  did 
not  understand  it  well  enough  to  talk  much  with 
Ver." 

In  an  instant  my  imagination  took  a  wild  flight. 
Could  it  be  that  I  had  stumbled  on  something  that 
would  give  me  a  clue  to  Miss  Brixton's  secret,  after 
searching  for  it  in  vain  so  long?  At  Malaga  all  I 
had  learned  was  that  she  had  stopped  at  the  Roma, 
with  her  maid,  the  courier  having  been  dismissed  at 
Oran.  At  Ronda,  Grenada,  and  the  other  places  en 
route,  this  was  the.  only  story  in  connection  with 
her  visit.  Never  a  man  that  had  been  seen  speaking 
to  her,  nothing  in  the  least  clandestine.  She  was 
seldom  out  at  night  and  then  the  concierge  of  the 
hotel  deputied  someone  to  accompany  the  two 
women.  She  had  left  behind  a  memory  of  good 
nature,  extreme  politeness  and  generosity.  Could  it 
be  that  the  English  or  American  lady — and  Con- 
tinentals never  can  tell  them  apart — was  the  erratic 
daughter  of  George  Brixton  ? 

On  what  could  I  base  such  a  theory  ?  On  the 
mere  fact  thus  far  that  a  lady  who  spoke  English 
had  been  known  by  my  new  acquaintance  in  Algeria, 
had  been  insulted  by  his  brother  officer,  and  the 
officer  had  been  wounded.  Of  what  did  the  insult 
consist  ?  A  thousand  possibilities  filled  my  brain. 
My  theory  became  so  fascinating  that  I  feared  to 
ask  anything  more  in  relation  to  it  lest  it  should  by 
the  first  reply  be  dashed  to  the  ground. 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  said,  when  I  was  unable  to  contain 


186  our  or  WEDLocr. 

myself  any  longer.  "  Do  you  know  the  name  of  this 
lady  ?" 

He  flushed,  a  not  unbecoming  habit  that  he  had 
when  cornered. 

"  If  I  did,"  he  answered,  "  I  could  not,  of  course, 
divulge  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  do  not.  I  only 
know  what  I  presume  are  her  initials,  and  of  that 
I  am  not  entirely  certain." 

I  must  find  out  whether  there  was  anything  in  my 
guess  and  I  hesitated  no  longer. 

"Were  those  initials,"!  asked,  "  anything  like 
'  B.  B.  ?'  " 

Fantelli  sprang  up,  greatly  excited.  Presently, 
however,  he  fell  back  into  his  seat  and  gasped  out  a 
question  : 

"  Were  those  initials  hazarded  at  random  ?" 

M  Not  at  all,"  I  answered.  "  I  know  a  lady  who 
bears  them  and  I  know  she  was  several  years  ago 
in  Algiers  for  the  winter.  There  are  other  things 
that  lead  me  to  fancy  she  may  be  the  heroine  of 
your  story." 

He  breathed  hard,  evidently  overcome  with  aston- 
ishment. 

"What  other  things  ?"  he  asked. 

"  She  has  told  me  a  veny  strange  tale,  including  a 
statement  that  a  certain  man  met  with  a  violent 
death.  You  say  that  your  brother  officer  narrowly 
escaped  losing  his  life." 

As  Maurice  gasped  again,  I  thought  how  impos- 
sible it  was  for  the  one  who  attempts  a  homicide, 
even  in  the  best  cause,  to  forget  what  he  has  done. 

"  When  did  you  last  see  the  lady  you  speak  of  ?* 
asked  Fantelli,  with  great  earnestness. 

**  Last  autumn." 


FANTELLI    ASTONISHED.  187 

*  In  England  ?" 

"  In  America." 

"What  was  she  doing  there?" 

"  She  was  spending  her  time  principally  in  the  care 
of  her  infant." 

Again  the  Frenchman  rose  to  his  feet,  trembling 
in  every  limb. 

"  I  think  we  had  best  drop  the  subject,"  I  re- 
marked uneasily. 

"  No  !"  lie  said,  sharply.  "  I  insist  that  you  answer 
me.  How  old  is  this  infant  ?" 

I  motioned  him  to  regain  his  seat  and  he  complied. 
Then  I  gave  him  the  child's  age  as  well  as  I  could. 
Whereupon  he  deluged  me  with  more  questions  than 
I  could  answer. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  finally.  "You  are  right; 
the  best  thing  is  for  us  to  talk  of  something  else." 

"Not  on  my  account,"  I  said.  "I  am  willing  to 
admit,  now  that  we  have  gone  so  far,  that  my  chief 
object  in  coming  to  Africa  and  Spain  was  to  obtain 
tidings  of  this  very  matter. 

Another  of  his  impetuous  motions  betrayed  the 
nervous  nature  that  was  in  him. 

"She  sent  you  ?"  he  hazarded. 

"  No." 

I  explained  to  him  my  connection  with  the  Brixton 
estate. 

*'  And  what  do  you  conclude  now?"  he  asked. 

"  I  think  the  child  of  my  friend,  Miss  B.,"  I  an- 
swered, slowly,  "  is  also  that  of  the  officer  you 
assaulted." 

My  companion  shook  his  head.  Then  he  mur- 
mured "  Absurd  !"  and  seemed  much  agitated. 

**  I  wish  to  know  that  officer's  name,  his  rank,  his 


188  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

family,  and  his  present  residence/'  I  continued. 
**  When  I  have  ascertained  these  facts,  I  shall  hav« 
done." 

*'  How  will  you  get  them  ?" 

**By  returning  at  once  to  Algiers." 

Fantelli  smiled  faintly. 

"I  will  save'  you  all  that  trouble,"  he  replied, 
politely.  "  He  was  a  colonel,  his  name  is  Louis  Des- 
moulins,  and  his  city  is  Dijon." 

Taking  out  a  memorandum  book  I  noted  each  of 
these  facts  carefully. 

"  Now,"  said  Maurice,  coldly,  "  there  will  be  noth» 
ing,  I  presume,  to  detain  you  in  Europe.  Let  me  only 
suggest  that  if  you  speak  of  me  to  the  lady  we  have 
been  so  freely  discussing,  you  will  use  me  as  gently 
as  you  can.  I  assure  you  I  have  given  correctly  the 
information  you  craved.  In  return  will  you  favor 
me  with  your  full  American  address,  in  order  that  I 
may  communicate  with  you  in  case  I  ever  ascertain 
anything  else  of  importance  ?" 

I  handed  him  my  card,  with  the  address  of  my 
banker  at  New  York  written  thereon,  and  we  parted 
without  enthusiasm,  when  his  brother  met  him  at 
Seville. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

BLANCHE   GOES    ABROAD   IN    HAST*. 

I  will  not  pretend  that  I  was  wholly  comfortable 
in  mind  after  I  parted  from  Monsieur  Fantelli.  I 
had  endeavored  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  a  fellow 


BLANCHE   GOES    ABROAD  Itf  HA8T& 

traveller  in  a  way  that  could  hardly  have  raised  roe 
in  his  estimation.  By  answering  my  inquiries  in 
respect  to  Monsieur  Desmoulins  in  such  a  frank 
way,  Maurice  had  given  a  final  stroke  to  my  self- 
abasement.  He  had  been  in  all  things  the  thorough 
gentleman,  while  I  had  acted  like  an  emissary  of  the 
police,  bent  on  discovering  certain  facts  at  any  cost. 
It  was  growing  warmer  and  I  journeyed  leisurely 
toward  the  north.  I  had  no  desire  to  return  to 
America  at  that  time  of  year.  The  scorching  rays 
of  the  sun  on  the  soil  of  my  country  during  a  great 
part  of  the  summer  make  it  uninviting  to  one  who 
has  experienced  the  more  temperate  airs  of  Europe. 
But  I  could  not  refrain  from  writing  an  answer  to 
the  letter  I  had  received  from  Miss  Brixton,  to  show 
that  her  sarcasm  was  not  wholly  deserved,  and  that 
I  was  not  in  such  total  ignorance  of  her  adven- 
tures as  she  believed.  There  was  not  much  to  tell, 
it  is  true,  but  I  had  enough  to  mystify  her.  This  is 
the  letter  I  wrote  : 

*•  MY  DEAR  Miss  BRIXTON  : — Your  very  considerate  note 
reached  me  just  as  I  was  leaving  Africa.  I  remembered 
you  with  pleasure  to  Monsieur  and  Madame  Delrien,  but  I 
had  already  talked  about  you  with  them  and  discovered 
that  they  were  much  interested  in  your  welfare.  Victor 
and  his  pretty  wife  had  also  learned  that  I  knew  you.  For 
a  lady  who  spent  so  brief  a  season  in  Algiers  I  must  say 
you  left  a  remarkably  pleasant  impression. 

*  I  am  now  on  my  way  to  Paris,  where  I  expect  to  stay 
till  about  the  first  of  July.  From  there  I  shall  go  to  Bou« 
logne-sur-Mer,  a  place  I  would  advise  you  to  visit  the  next 
time  you  go  abroad.  I  shall  make  but  few  stops  on  my 
way  north  and  spend  not  more  than  a  day  or  two  in  a  place, 
unless  it  be  at  Dijon,  where  I  intend  to  see  some  old  friend* 


190  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

by  the  name  of  Desmoulins,  whose  son  Louis  was  badly 
wounded  some  time  ago  in  Algeria.  I  wondered  if  you  knew 
of  the  circumstance  ?  It  is  said  that  a  peculiar  affair  of  the 
heart  preceded  it ;  but  these  French  call  all  sorts  of  things 
affairs  du  caeur  ?  It  made  a  sensation  at  the  time.  His 
assailant,  the  young  and  dashing  M.  F.,  was  a  general  favor- 
ite and  his  sentence  provoked  widespread  regret. 

"  May  I  beg  that  you  will  kiss  Master  Wallace  for  me,  and 
that,  if  you  have  the  time  to  spare,  you  will  send  me  a  line 
with  the  latest  news,  addressed  in  care  of  Hottinguer  &  Cie., 
38  Rue  de  Provence.  Ever  your  friend," 

"J.M." 

At  Paris  I  engaged  a  pieasant  suite  of  rooms  on 
the  Boulevard  Hausmann.  This  was  a  pleasure  I 
had  promised  myself  years  before,  on  the  occasion 
of  my  first  visit  to  the  imperial  city.  I  do  not  know 
what  makes  this  boulevard  seem  to  me  the  most 
majestic  in  all  Paris,  but  that  is  the  impression  I 
have  always  had.  There  is  an  indefinable  some* 
thing  that  none  of  the  others,  grand  though  they  be, 
can  boast. 

A  letter  from  a  banker  at  Dijon  proved  that  Mon- 
sieur Desmoulins  was  well  known  there,  as  well  as 
the  fact  that  he  was  injured  in  Algeria  in  a  private 
quarrel.  His  health  was  still  poor  and  he  was  sup- 
posed to  be  travelling.  This  proved  that  Maurice 
had  been  honest  with  me. 

A  fortnight  later  I  received  a  second  letter  from 
Miss  Brixton.  She  had  evidently  wasted  little  time 
before  replying  to  my  communication,  and  she  had 
thrown  aside  all  of  her  badinage. 

"Your  letter  (she  said)  interested  me  more  that  I 
Can  explain.  And  now  I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you. 
Tell  me  without  circumlocution  from  whom  you 


BLANCHE    O0i:s    ABROAD    IN    HASTE.  191 

learned  the  facts  of  the  assault  on  Monsieur  D.  and 
the  sentence  of  Monsieur  F.  Do  what  I  ask  and  I 
may  soon.be  able  to  tell  you  more  than  I  have  yet 
revealed  to  any  human  being  of  that  episode  in  my 
life  at  which  the  world  seems  astounded  and  for 
which  I  am  still  unforgiven  by  my  closest  friends. 
Do  not  hesitate,  I  pray.  The  matter  has  gone  beyond 
the  trivial  stage  and  is  of  the  greatest  seriousness 
to  me." 

I  smiled  with  the  air  of  a  conqueror  when  I  read 
these  lines.  It  was  plain  that  I  had  touched  my 
correspondent  in  a  tender  place  and  that  I  should 
accomplish  most  of  what  I  had  resolved  upon  when 
1  left  Dr.  Robertson's  office,  six  months  before.  My 
next  letter  was  brief,  but  written  with  care  : 

"  Receive  my  assurance  (I  said),  if  you  need  it 
that  I  would  do  anything  to  serve  your  true  interests. 
While  I  have  learned  much  about  your  winter  in 
Algeria,  I  have  divulged  nothing  except  the  fact 
which  you  certainly  do  not  appear  to  wish  con- 
cealed, that  you  are  a  mother.  My  chief  informant 
was  M.  Fantelli,  who  was  for  some  time  my  travel- 
ling companion.  He  received  his  pardon  two 
months  ago  or  so,  and  has  left  Algeria." 

I  had  been  about  a  fortnight  at  Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
Each  day  I  was  growing  fonder  of  the  lazy  life  by 
the  sea.  The  odd  machines  in  which  one  takes  his 
long  ride  into  the  surf ;  the  cavaliers  who  draw 
the  conveyances  out  or  in,  according  to  the  direction 
the  tide  is  moving  ;  the  picturesque  figures  in  bath- 
ing costumes,  that  cover  the  littoral  by  the  hundred  ; 
the  fashionably  attired  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
occupy  chairs  along  the  beach,  or  sit  under  canopies 
to  watch  the  never-ending  show — all  make  Boulogne 


192  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  during  the  season. 
In  the  evening  there  are  drives  and  climbs  to  the 
grand  heights  above,  and  the  watching  of  the  fisher- 
men and  fisherwomen,  clad  in  their  quaint  costumes, 
bare-legged  and  crowned  with  the  queerest  hats 
you  ever  saw  ;  and  then  the  handsome  toilettes  that 
fill  the  Casino  and  its  illuminated  grounds.  In  the 
village  streets  I  could  walk  for  days,  glancing  at  the 
clean  interiors  of  the  low  houses,  where  the  heavy 
wooden  beds  and  bureaus  of  the  present  occupants' 
grandfathers  put  to  shame  the  modern  spider-legged 
contrivances  ;  and  where  the  indispensable  pendule  in 
all  its  glory  of  gilt  seldom  attempts  in  any  way  to 
indicate  the  passing  hours. 

Boulogne — I  prefer  you  to  Ostcnd,  to  Brighton — 
even  to  that  loveliest  of  American  seaside  resorts, 
Narragansett  Pier  ! 

I  knew  that  one  of  the  Amsterdam  steamers  had 
made  her  landing,  but  something  more  attractive 
chained  me  to  the  hotel.  A  north  of  England  girl, 
twenty  years  of  age,  with  a  physique  that  could  not 
be  excelled,  was  telling  me  that  the  only  fault  she 
found  with  Boulogne  was  the  warmth  of  the  water. 
She  was  accustomed  to  bathe  every  day  at  home  in 
the  North  Sea,  whose  temperature,  I  understand,  is 
about  that  of  ordinary  ice  water,  and  the  waves  at 
Boulogne,  which  I  thought  rather  chilly,  struck  her 
as  merely  tepid.  The  girl  had  the  English  color. 
Her  eye  was  bright ;  her  arms,  showing  through  the 
lace-like  sleeves  of  her  basque,  were  round  as  a 
child's.  She  weighed,  as  she  herself  informed  me, 
thirteen  stone — I  had  to  reckon  it  into  pounds— 
though  she  was  but  five  feet  three  in  height.  She 
had  a  hand  and  foot  that  would  not  be  considered 


BLANCHE  GOES  ABROAD  IS  HASTE.      193 

fashionably  small  in  American  circles,  but  they  fitted 
the  rest  of  her  figure  to  perfection.  I  have  always  felt 
a  sense  of  gratitude  to  Mr.  Edgar  Fawcett  because 
he  was  willing  that  his  gigantic  heroine,  Miriam 
Ballestier,  should  have  feet  in  proportion  to  her  size. 
This  north  of  England  girl  was  a  fine  specimen  from 
every  sensible  standpoint,  and  no  Atlantic  liner  was 
sufficient  to  lure  me  from  her. 

Time  passes  more  rapidly  than  one  can  account 
for  when  such  pleasant  company  is  being  enjoyed. 
Before  I  should  have  supposed  it  possible  for  the 
steamer's  passengers  to  reach  the  hotel,  a  garden 
came  into  the  parlor  and  handed  me  a  note.  My 
surprise  could  hardly  be  exceeded  when  I  saw  the 
signature  of  Blanche  Brixton  at  the  end. 

She  had  just  arrived  and  wished  to  see  me  with- 
out delay  in  her  private  parlor. 

Excusing  myself  to  my  buxom  companion — I  fan- 
cied a  shade  of  pique  came  into  her  ruddy  coun- 
tenance— I  went  at  once  to  Miss  Brixton's  rooms. 
The  familiar  face  met  my  eyes  as  soon  as  the  door 
was  opened  to  me.  But  it  was  not  the  happy,  com* 
posed  face  I  had  known  in  New  York.  It  was  thai 
of  one  who  had  been  in  deep  trouble. 

"  I  beg  pardon  sincerely  ;*->r  sending  for  you  in 
such  haste,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  had  taken  my 
hand  and  motioned  me  to  a  seat.  "  I  am  very  tired, 
and  a  sea  voyage  always  unnerves  me." 

"  You    were    ill     on  the    ocean  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  it  was  a  most  unpleasant  passage.  You 
did  not  expect  me,  did  you  ?  I  thought  at  first  of 
cabling,  but  it  seemed  absurd.  Really,  I  am  making 
you  no  cud.  of  annoyance.  I  wonder  what  you  think 
»£  me." 


OFT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

I  assured  her  that  she  had  not  troubled  me  at  aii, 
and  that  I  was  most  pleased  to  see  her  and  render 
any  service  in  my  power.  Then  I  inquired  after  the 
health  of  the  child,  and  with  whom  she  had  left  it. 

"Good  heavens!  Did  you  imagine  I  could  go 
away  so  far  without  Wallace  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  He 
is  in  the  next  room  with  Julia,  being  put  to  bed  for 
his  nap." 

"  You  must  have  started  in  haste,"  I  observed,  "  if 
you  came  after  you  received  my  last  letter." 

Miss  Brixton  clasped  her  hands  nervously 
together. 

"  Oh,  I  did  !"  she  replied.  "  I  wanted  to  know  so 
many  things,  and — and  it  takes  so  long  for  the 
mails." 

I  waited  patiently  for  her  to  continue.  She  was 
evidently  influenced  by  some  intense  emotion.  I 
would  gladly  have  helped  to  soothe  her  had  I  known 
the  best  way  to  do  it. 

"  Why  did  you  interest  yourself  in  my  secret  ?" 
she  ejaculated,  as  if  in  pain.  "  I  was  happy  and  con- 
tented, and  now  I  am  utterly  miserable  !" 

"I  do  not  understand  how  anything  have  done 
should  have  that  effect  on  you,"  I  exclaimed,  as- 
tonished. 

Miss  Brixton  turned  her  face  from  me,  apparently 
to  conceal  some  spasm  that  was  about  to  cross  it. 

"  Of  course  you  don't  !"  she  answen~i,  chokingly. 
"  And  I  cannot  make  you,  unless  I  tell  you  every- 
*hingr  which  I  cannot  yet  do.  You  have  a  theory,  I 
am  sure — about  me — about  this  affair.  Won't  you 
tell  me  what  it  is  ?" 

"Miss  Brixton,"  I  said,  "the  state  of  mind  in 
which  I  find  you  puzzles  me  greatly.  I  supposed 


BLANCHE  GOES  ABROAD  IN  HASTE.       195 

from  all  that  you  had  said  to  me,  and  what  others 
had  told  me,  that  you  were  perfectly  certain  that 
you  had  done  right — that  you  had  no  regrets  on 
account  of — your  child.  Now  I  am  led  to  believe — " 

She  stopped  me  before  I  could  go  any  farther. 

"This  is  too  cruel  !"  she  cried.  "  You  are  imagin- 
ing things  that  have  no  foundation.  I  love  my  child 
as  much  as  ever,  I  have  no  regrets  in  connection 
with  Aim,  not  one  !  But  you  have  been  in  Algeria — 
you  have  met — you  say — a  certain  gentleman.  And 
what  I  ask  is,  what  theory — have  you — formulated  ?" 

In  spite  of  the  assurances  she  had  given  me,  I  had 
r  feeling  of  a  decidedly  unpleasant  nature  when  I 
told  her  what  I  suspected — namely,  that  Monsieur 
Desmoulins  was  the  father  of  Wallace.  She  uttered, 
a  little  "  Oh  !"  and  covered  her  face  with  both  hands. 
For  a  minute  I  thought  she  was  about  to  burst  into 
tears. 

"Monsieur  Fantelli — he  did  not  say  that?"  sh^j 
asked,  in  low,  trembling  tones. 

"  No.  He  said  little  except  that  he  had  tried  to 
kill  his  friend  on  your  account.  And  he  gave  me  a 
few  particulars  about  himself,  such  as  that  he  had  a 
brother  at  Lyons  and  a  wife  somewhere.  He — " 

My  companion  rose  to  her  feet  and  stared  at  me 
wildly. 

"A  wife!"  she  exclaimed.  "He  has  married, 
then,  since  I  saw  him  ?" 

"Long  before,"  I  replied,  "judging  by  the  way  h* 
spoke.  He  said  she  had  gone  her  way  and  he  did 
rtot  intend  to  search  for  her.  He  seemed  embittered 
by  her  desertion  at  a  time  when  he  most  needed  her 
sympathy,  and  I  connected  the  occurrence  with  his 
incarceration." 


196  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

A  thousand  emotions  chased  each  other  over  the 
mobile  face  that  was  turned  toward  me,  but  at  the 
time  I  had  no  key  to  a  single  one  of  them. 

"And  I  think  you  wrote  me  that  you  told  him 
about — Wallace  ?"  she  said  next. 

"Yes." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"  He  seemed  intensely  surprised." 

Miss  Brixton  nodded  her  head,  more  to  herself 
than  to  me,  and  gazed  at  the  carpet  for  some  seconds 
without  speaking. 

"You  are  going  to  remain  at  Boulogne  for  some 
time  longer,  I  presume  ?"  she  said,  finally.  Then, 
when  I  had  responded  in  the  affirmative,  she  added, 
"I  am  so  tired  now  that  I  will  ask  you  to  excuse  me. 
To-morrow,  if  you  are  willing,  I  will  talk  with  you 
again." 

She  bowed  me  out  politely  and  I  went  in  search 
of  my  North  Sea  divinity.  But  she  had  fled  and  the 
parlor  that  had  known  her  knew  her  no  more  that 
•lay. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

**  QUEL  AGE   AS   TU,    MON    BE^g  ?'* 

When  Boulogne-sur-Mer  is  open  to  anyone  who 
chooses  to  go  there  it  ought  not  to  have  surprised 
me  to  see,  a  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  Miss  Brix- 
ton, the  two  brothers  Fantelli  sauntering  along  the 
Plaza.  J  met  them  squarely,  and  all  three  of  us 


"QUEL  AGE  AS  TU,  MON  BBBE?"  197 

raised  our  hats  after  the  European  custom.  I  did 
not  intend  to  stop,  for  my  parting  with  Maurice  had 
been  rather  cold,  but  Monsieur  Maxime,  first  ad- 
dressing some  remark  in  a  very  low  tone  to  his 
brother,  stepped  aside  and  gave  me  his  hand  cor- 
dially. 

"I  did  not  expect  to  meet  you,"  he  said,  with  a 
smile.  "  It  is  some  distance  from  here  to  Seville." 

"  Yes,"  I  admitted,  "but  Boulogne  is  an  old  friend 
of  mine.  Besides,"  I  added,  with  a  glance  at 
Maurice,"  I  have  acquaintances  here  from  America  ; 
a  certain  lady  of  whom  I  spoke  to  Monsieur  when 
we  were  in  Spain." 

Maurice  Fantelli  flushed  visibly  at  my  statement. 
He  seemed  ill  at  ease,  and  turning  abruptly  to  his 
brother,  alluded  to  an  engagement  that  they  were 
on  the  way  to  keep  when  my  presence  interrupted 
their  walk. 

"  It  is  eleven  o'clock  already,"  he  said.  "  We  shall 
certainly  be  late." 

"  Directly,  mon  frlre"  replied  Monsieur  Maxime. 
"  The  lady  is,  then,  of  particular  interest  to  you,  I 
judge  ?"  he  said  to  me.  "  A  sweetheart,  perhaps, 
or — but  I  think  you  are  not  married  ?" 

"  Excuse  us,  won't  you  ?"  spoke  up  Maurice,  with 
unconcealed  agitation.  "  We  will  see  you  later  in 
the  day.  You  are  so  careless  about  appointments," 
he  added,  to  his  brother,  "  that  I  really  must  remind 
you  again  of  the  hour.  Good-day,  Monsieur  Med- 
ford." 

At  the  same  time  that  he  said  these  words,  Mau- 
rice telegraphed  with  his  eyes  a  plea  that  I  would 
make  no  further  allusion  to  the  American  lady 
before  his  brother,  and  I  saw  no  reason  why  I  should 


198  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

not  oblige  him.  Consequently  I  mentioned  that  I 
also  had  an  engagement,  and  that  I  hoped  to  meet 
them  in  the  evening  at  the  Casino. 

Two  hours  later,  as  I  was  coming  from  breakfast — 
or  lunch,  as  the  Americans  would  say — I  met  Mau- 
rice, who  craved  a  brief  audience  in  my  private 
apartment. 

"Don't  criticize  my  conduct  too  strongly,"  were 
his  first  words,  when  we  were  inside  my  parlor.  "  I 
know  I  seemed  disagreeable  to  you  at  Seville,  but  I 
had  things  to  trouble  me.  We  are  still  friends,  I 
hope,  or  at  least  not  enemies.  What  I  wish  to  ask  is 
that  you  will  refrain  from  alluding  to  madame  in  the 
presence  of  my  brother.  He — he  does  not  under- 
stand— and  it  is  for  the  advantage  of  all  concerned 
that  he  should  not.  Give  me  your  word  as  a  gentle- 
man that  you  will  do  this,  and  I  shall  feel  secure. 
Otherwise,  I  must  make  an  excuse  to  get  him  to 
leave  Boulogne  at  once." 

More  mystery  ! 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  make  your  mind  easy,"  I 
said.  "  But  he  is  likely  to  learn  of  the  matter  from 
others  if  he  remains  here.  Miss  Brixton  is  in  this 
very  hotel,  with  her  child,  and  she  may  meet  you 
and  him  at  any  moment." 

He  glanced  apprehensively  at  the  door  as  if  he 
expected  she  might  enter. 

"In  this  house!"  he  repeated.  "She — and  her 
child  >" 

"  Yes.  They  arrived  on  the  last  Amsterdam 
steamer." 

He  seemed  lost  in  thought  for  several  minutes. 

"  Pardon   me,"   he  said,  at    last.     "  I    answered  a 


"  QUEL  AGE  AS  TF,  MON  BEBE  ?"       199 

great  many  questions  for  you,  when  we  were  at 
Oran.  Will  you  answer  a  few  for  me  ?" 

"If  I  can." 

"  Why  did  Mees — how  do  you  pronounce  her 
name — " 

"  Brixton." 

"  Brees-ton.  Why  has  she  come  to  Europe  at  this 
time  ?" 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "  to  be  frank  with  you,  she 
came  on  account  of  a  letter  I  wrote,  informing  her  that 
I  had  heard  of  her  African  experience." 

Maurice  looked  greatly  puzzled. 

"  She  came  all  the  way  across  the  ocean — on  that 
account !"  he  said. 

"  Yes.  She  wanted  to  hear  the  fullest  particulars 
from  my  own  lips,  and  lost  no  time  in  doing  so.  An 
Atlantic  journey  is  not.  so  great  an  undertaking  as  it 
once  was." 

The  Frenchman  measured  his  words  with  nicety. 

"  And  when  she  arrived  you  told  her — what  ?" 

"  That  I  had  met  you — " 

"  Diable!" 

"  And  that  you  had  told  me — " 

" Sacr/  bleu,  I  told  you  nothing!  I  beg  your 
pardon  !" 

"  I  told  her  I  had  learned  about  her  child's  father. 
That  was  it,  in  brief." 

Maurice  blinked  as  if  a  musket  ball  had  whizzeq 
by  his  eyes. 

"  You  told  her — "  he  echoed. 

"  I  told  her  what  I  knew." 

Fantelli's  face  wore  a  strange  expression. 

"  And  what  did  the  lady  say  ?"  he  asked. 

44  What  could  she  say  ?" 


200  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

'•  How  long  will  she  remain  abroad  ?" 

"A  long  time,  probably." 

"For  what  purpose?"  he  inquired,  suspiciously. 

"  Perhaps  to  see  Monsieur  Desmoulins — or  you,"  I 
hazarded,  at  random. 

He  rose,  took  a  few  strides  up  and  down  the  room, 
and  ejaculated,  "  Oh,  no  !"  with  some  vigor.  "No, 
indeed  !  If  she  knew  I  was  in  Boulogne  she  would 
leave  it  to-morrow.  I  think  you  had  best  tell  her,  if 
you  will  be  so  kind.  Maxime  has  planned  to  stay  a 
month  and  we  shall  be  in  constant  danger  of  run- 
ning across  Mees  Brees-ton,  which  wou*d  be  annoy- 
ing." 

I  remarked  that  I  should  certainly  inform  her  that 
he  was  in  the  village,  if  he  desired  it,  but  that  a  brief 
note  from  his  own  hand  would  answer  the  same 
purpose. 

"I  write  so  execrably,  after  my  long  confinement 
at  manual  labor,"  he  said,  in  excuse, "  that  I  fear  she 
could  never  read  it.  Just  mention  that  I  am  here — 
speak  as  if  I  were  alone,  you  know,  for  of  course  she 
does  not  know  anything  about  the  other  members  of 
my  family — and  mark  the  result.  On  the  next 
morning  she  will  pack  her  tilings  and  start  for  some 
other  quarter  of  the  globe.  By-the-way,  monsieur, 
could  you  manage  to  let  me  see  her  boy  ?" 

I  cav.ed  a  servant  and  gave  him  a  note  to  Miss 
Brixton,  in  which  I  stated  that  an  acquaintance  of 
mine  wished  to  see  her  offspring,  and  would  she 
allow  him  to  be  brought  up  for  a  few  minutes. 
When  Wallace  reached  the  room,  which  was  half  an 
hour  later,  so  anxious  had  the  fond  mamma  been  to 
make  him  thoroughly  presentable,  Fantelli  examined 
him  with  the  greatest  interest. 


AGE  AS  TU,  MON  BEBB?"  201 

••Quet  age  as  tu,  mon  btbtf  he  said,  caressingly, 
passing  his  hands  through  the  little  fellow's  curls. 

"  He  does  not  speak  French,"  I  explained,  when 
the  boy  looked  blankly  at  the  unfamiliar  face  and 
listened  to  the  strange  tongue- 

44  Pas  un  mot  f" 

44  Not  one.     Who  should  have  taught  him  ?" 

Fantelli  said  "To  be  sure,"  in  a  low  tone  and 
resumed  his  inspection  of  the  infant. 

44  Why  the  deuce  did  I  never  learn  English  ?"  he 
exclaimed.  **  To  think  that  I  can't  ask  this  chap  his 
age  in  a  way  that  he  can  understand  !  His  mother 
is  equally  ignorant,  I  think,  of  the  most  beautiful 
tongue  f  Well,  he  is  a  pretty  fellow,  and  I  am 
infinitely  obliged  to  you." 

As  he  was  apparently  through  with  his  inspection, 
I  took  Wallace  to  the  maid,  who  was  in  waiting  out- 
side my  door,  and  delivered  him  into  her  custody. 

44  What  is  that  name  you  called  him  ?"  asked 
Maurice  when  I  returned. 

44  Wallace." 

"Vallees?"  he  repeated,  struggling  with  the  pro- 
nunciation. 4<  What  kind  of  name  is  that  ?" 

I  told  him  it  was  probably  a  mere  fancy,  a  name 
that  happened  to  suit  the  taste  of  his  mother. 

44  Oh,  I  remember,"  he  replied.  "  You  do  not 
name  children  after  the  saints,  as  we  do.  I  thought 
there  could  be  no  St.  Vallees.  Well,  the  name  is 
good  enough.  And  tfie  surname — you  tell  me  she 
calls  the  boy  Brees-ton." 

44  Wallace  Brixton,  yes." 

Monsieur  Fantelli  shook  his  head. 

"But — does  not  that  excite  comment  ?"  he  asked. 
*4  What  kind  ot  arrangements  nave  you  in  America^ 


202  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

by  which  a  child  takes  his  mother's  name  instead  of 
his  father's  ?  Is  that  the  custom  in  your  country  ? 
Explain  it  to  me,  please  ?" 

I  did  not  know  as  I  had  a  right  to  enter  into  a  full 
explanation,  especially  as  it  was  doubtful  if  he 
Would  appreciate  the  very  peculiar  circumstances  of 
this  very  peculiar  case.  So  I  told  him  it  was 
another  fancy  of  Miss  Brixton's. 

"  She  always  calls  herself  Mees  Brees-ton,  does 
she  ?"  he  asked.  "  Not  Madame  ?" 

"  Exactly.  She  is  a  very  independent  woman, 
with  a  fortune  of  her  own,  and  does  as  she  pleases." 

He  murmured  that  it  was  most  unaccountable. 
Feeling  that  one  good  turn  deserved  another,  and 
that  I  ought  to  receive  something  in  return  for  ali 
the  information  I  was  imparting,  I  tried  to  get  him 
to  tell  me  fuller  particulars  about  his  part  in  the 
Algerian  affair.  But  he  was  reticent  still. 

"  Won't  you  say  in  what  your  friend,  the  colonel's, 
insult  consisted  ?"  I  asked. 

u  Ah,  mon  ami!  You  must  excuse  me.  That 
matter  is  of  such  a  painful  nature  that  I  cannot  bear 
to  recall  it.  Poor  Louis  has  paid  dearly  for  his 
fault  !" 

"But  I  do  not  see  why  she  should  avoid  you"  I 
said.  "Your  part  in  the  matter  seems  to  have  been 
a  most  honorable  one." 

He  thanked  me  by  a  low  bow,  and  said  it  did  not 
follow  that  madame  held  that  opinion.  Besides, 
why  did  I  not  question  her  in  relation  to  it.  If  she 
was  willing  to  tell  me  he  would  interpose  no 
objection. 

As  there  was  no  more  to  be  got  out  of  him  I  was 
not  sorry  when  he  brought  the  interview  to  a  close 


"QUEL  AGE  AS  TU,  MON  BKBE?"  203 

It  had  taken  up  an  hour  of  my  time — not  worth 
much,  it  is  true,  but  worse  than  wasted,  so  far  as  I 
could  see. 

That  evening,  while  sitting  on  the  veranda  with 
Miss  Brixton,  who  spent  considerable  of  her  leisure 
time  in  my  company,  I  resolved  to  tell  her  that 
Monsieur  Fantelli  was  at  Boulogne  and  mark  the 
effect  of  the  news. 

"  I  met  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours  to-day,"  was 
the  way  I  began  it.  Then,  as  she  glanced  at  me 
inquiringly,  I  continued,  "  from  Algiers." 

The  color  left  her  cheek,  as  she  turned  a  frightened 
face  toward  me. 

"Who?"  she  whispered. 

"  Monsieur  Fantelli." 

"  Here  I"  she  cried,  incredulously. 

"  Here,  in  this  hotel.  He  was  in  my  room  for  an 
hour  this  very  afternoon." 

She  drew  a  long  breath  and  her  eyes  opened 
wider. 

"  And  it  was  he  to  whom  you  showed  my  boy !" 

I  nodded  to  admit  that  she  was  right  in  her 
supposition. 

"  Mr.  Medford,"  she  said,  biting  her  lips,  "  that 
was  not  fair." 

"  So  far  as  I  knew  it  was  perfectly  right,"  I  replied. 
"  If  you  persist  in  keeping  the  main  facts  of  your 
case  from  me,  you  must  not  be  surprised  if  I  err  in 
judgment,  groping  as  I  am  in  the  dark." 

I  could  see  that  she  relented. 

"  What  did  he  say  about  Wallace  ?"  she  inquired, 
breathing  heavily. 

"  That  he  was  a  handsome  child,  and  that  he 
regretted  they  could  not  speak  a  common  tongue." 


204  OUT  or  WEDLOCK. 

"Was  that  all?* 

"  That  was  all." 

"And  about  me  ?" 

"  That  you  would  leave  Boulogne  if  you  knew  he 
were  here." 

With  the  ingenuousness  of  a  woman  or  a  criminal 
lawyer  she  cross-questioned  me  for  some  minutes  in 
relation  to  the  Frenchman,  but  I  had  nothing  more 
to  tell  her.  When  I  asked  again  if  she  would  not 
make  me  a  participant  in  the  full  secret  she  was 
carrying,  she  shook  her  head  and  said  :  "Not  quite 
yet,"  in  a  way  that  left  me  certain  she  had  a  pain  at 
her  heart  that  prevented  her  speaking. 

The  next  day  I  did  not  see  either  of  the  brothers 
Fantelli.  They  must  have  kept  out  of  sight  on  pur- 
pose, for  I  took  my  morning  bath  in  the  surf  and 
spent  much  of  the  afternoon  in  the  Casino,  where  all 
the  men  were  in  the  habit  of  congregating. 

After  dinner  I  proposed  to  Miss  Brixton  that  we 
take  a  stroll  together,  something  we  had  been  talk- 
ing of  doing  the  first  pleasant  evening,  and  she  made 
the  excuse  that  she  had  some  letters  to  write  and 
should  not  go  out.  Rather  lonely,  I  waited  till  after 
nine  o'clock  and  then  took  my  solitary  way  along  the 
path  that  Jed  to  the  cathedral  on  the  heights  above. 
Having  inspected  the  neighborhood  often  I  walked 
listlessly  along,  bent  merely  on  killing  the  heavy 
hours  that  intervened  between  me  and  bedtime. 
Occasionally  figures  passed  me,  mostly  of  the  fisher- 
folk  who  live  in  that  vicinity. 

But  a  different  sight  suddenly  met  my  vision— one 
that  caused  me  to  step  aside  and  hide  myself  for  a 
minute  in  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  trees.  Two  people 
were  walking  together,  a  man  and  a  woman.  They 


AT   BOULOGNE-SUR-MEB.  205 

passed  within  twenty  feet  of  me,— Blanche  Brixton 
and  Maurice  Fantelli  !  Their  faces  were  close 
together,  like  thoss  of  people  who  do  not  mean  to 
be  overheard.  The  few  words  that  reached  my  ears 
showed  me  that  the  woman  was  speaking  French 
with  a  very  broken  accent,  and  that  her  companion 
was  having  difficulty  in  comprehending  her. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

AT   BOULOGNE-SUR-MER. 

Conceive  anything  you  please,  it  cannot  be  too 
strong  to  express  my  surprise  that  two  persons,  who 
had  both  given  me  to  understand  that  a  cordial  dis- 
like kept  them  apart,  should  be  walking  in  the  most 
friendly  manner  along  that  unfrequented  path  at  ten 
o'clock  at  night  !  And  Miss  Brixton,  unacquainted 
so  far  as  I  knew  with  any  foreign  tongue,  was  trying 
to  converse  in  French,  proving  that  she  was  as 
anxious  as  he  for  the  meeting. 

Most  of  us  have  nerves  that  may  be  touched  un- 
pleasantly by  the  discovery  that  we  have  been  out- 
witted. My  head  grew  hot  as  I  thought  of  the  sit- 
uation. I  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  be 
able  to  follow  those  people  without  discovery,  and 
learn  what  they  were  saying.  As  they  had  passed 
into  the  open  this  was,  of  course,  impossible.  The 
moon  was  bright  enough  to  disclose  any  object 
not  hidden  by  a  tree  or  a  building.  I  could  only 


206  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Stay  till  they  had  gone  completely  out  of  sight,  and 
then  return  to  my  hotel  and  await  developments. 

These  people  were  evidently  too  deep  for  my  slen- 
der capacity  as  a  detective.  All  I  had  discovered 
was  the  result  of  chance,  not  ability.  So  disgusted 
was  I  that  I  sank  on  the  ground  under  the  trees,  and 
gave  myself  up  to  my  thoughts. 

Within  a  few  minutes,  however,  I  heard  low  voices, 
and  peering  through  the  shrubbery  I  saw  my 
friends — if  such  I  could  now  call  them — returning. 
They  had,  apparently,  little  fear  of  being  discovered, 
for  the  hour  was  late  and  there  were  few  strollers 
but  themselves  on  that  side  of  the  height.  They 
walked  very  slowly,  and  every  few  moments  stopped 
for  a  second  or  two.  Miss  Brixton's  French  was  so 
imperfect  that  Maurice,  with  all  his  politeness,  was 
obliged  frequently  to  confess  that  he  could  not  make 
it  out.  One  of  their  stops  was  near  enough  to  where 
I  lay  for  me  to  hear  a  part  of  the  conversation. 

"I  cannot  you  believe,"  was  what  Miss  Brixton 
V?ui  saying,  to  translate  her  French  into  anything 
*•><«  its  English  equivalent.  "  I  saw  never  anyorte 
who  looked  like  priest.  I  not  French  then  spoke. 
That  could  not  be  good  law.  I  have  not  anvthin« 
understand." 

"But  I  am  sure,"  responded  the  mellifluous  tones 
of  Fantelli.  "  It  was  no  priest,  in  that  you  are 
right  ;  but  the  mayor  of  the  place,  which  is  accord- 
ing to  our  custom.  He  is  there  still,  I  presume  ; 
you  could  go  and  see." 

Miss  Brixton  shook  her  head  decidedly,  like  one 
who  is  unwilling  to  be  convinced. 

"  Why  have  you  learned  French  ?"  asked  Maurice, 
as  they  began  to  move  on. 


AT   BOULOGXE-SCR-MER.  207 

"  To  with  Wallace  talk  after,"  she  answered.  "  He 
must  the  language  learn  of  his  father." 

"But  he  has  no  father,  according  to  your  belief," 
replied  the  other.  "  If  you  call  him  Vallees  Brees- 
ton  and  tell  him  he  is  French  he  will  ask  you  many 
questions." 

"  No  ;  I  him  will  explain — " 

They  had  gone  too  far  for  me  to  follow  their  con- 
versation at  that  time,  and  I  rose  to  my  feet,  more 
puzzled  than  ever.  Miss  Brixton  had  told  Maurice 
that  she  had  seen  no  one  who  resembled  a  priest, 
and  he  had  said  it  was  no  priest,  but  a  mayor. 
That  meant  nothing  to  me.  The  mayor,  he  had 
added,  was  still  there.  There  ?  Where  ?  At  some 
place  in  Algeria,  nD  doubt.  She  "could  go  to  see 
him."  Would  she  go  ?  What  would  she  do  if  she 
did  go  ?  The  key  to  the  entire  mystery  might  be  in 
that  question. 

After  I  reached  my  apartments  I  was  surprised  by 
a  card  from  Miss  Brixton's  maid,  who  informed  me 
that  her  mistress  wished  very  much  to  see  me  for  a 
few  moments.  I  followed  her  to  the  salon  occupied 
by  my  countrywoman  and  found  the  latter  in  a  state 
of  decided  perturbation. 

"  I  am  in  much  trouble,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  I  had 
entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door.  "There  is 
no  one  else  on  this  side  of  the  ocean  that  I  can  call 
to  my  aid,  and  yet  I  fear  you  must  by  this  time 
think  me  an  intolerable  nuisance." 

I  responded  with  due  politeness,  and  waited  for 
her  to  proceed. 

"  It  may  be  necessary  for  me  to  make  a  journey  to 
Algeria,"  she  said,  speaking  hesitatingly.  "  Not  at 
this  season,  of  course,  for  it  would  endanger  tfe« 


208  >  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK.. 

health  of  my  boy,  and  I  could  not  think  of  going 
without  him.  I  want  to  ask  if  you  intend  to  stay 
another  winter  abroad,  and — it  looks  like  a  great 
request,  doesn't  5t  ? — if  you  could  make  it  convenient 
to  spend  a  month  or  so  in  Africa  with  me,  say  in 
October." 

I  looked  into  the  anxious  face  and  marked  the 
movements  of  the  nervous  hands. 

"  How  much  easier  all  this  would  be,"  I  said,  "  if 
you  would  confide  your  entire  story  to  me.  How 
can  you  tell  that  I  might  not  be  able  to  give  advice 
that  would  be  of  value.  At  present  both  of  us  are 
groping  in  the  dark." 

She  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and  reddened  in 
the  charming  way  she  had. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  would  trust  you 
sooner  than  anyone  else,  but  I  cannot  tell  my  secret 
yet  to  any  man." 

"  Not  even  to  Monsieur  Fantelli  ?"  I  asked,  stung 
to  the  quick. 

Miss  Brixton's  expression  showed  that  the  shot 
had  struck  home.  She  turned  pale,  recoiled  a  little, 
and  then  leaning  forward,  put  both  her  hands  on  my 
arm. 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  that  ?"  she  asked,  breath-. 
lessly. 

"Only  what  I  said.  If  anyone  is  to  go  to  Algeria 
with  you,  it  ought  to  be  he.  He  knows  the  country 
— he  knows  more  than  he  has  told  me  of  the  adven- 
ture that  you  had  there.  He  is,  so  far  as  I  am  aware, 
free  from  engagements  of  any  kind.  Why  not  ask 
him  r 

She  eyed  me  with  curiosity  and  an  intense  desire 
to  learn  what  I  knew. 


AT  BOULOGNE-STJB-MEB.  209 

*  I  could  not  ask  him,"  she  replied.  "  And  if  you 
are  as  wise  as  you  like  to  have  me  believe,  you  will 
understand  the  reason." 

"  And  yet,"  I  answered, "  you  can  walk  about  town 
with  him  under  the  moonlight." 

"Walk — with  him  !"  she  exclaimed,  with  such  well 
counterfeited  astonishment,  that  nothing  but  my  own 
eyesight  would  have  made  me  doubt  her. 

**  Certainly,"  I  said.  "  I  was  not  spying  upon  you, 
but  I  saw  you,  distinctly.  Anyone  could  have  seen 
you,  for  you  made  no  attempt  at  concealment.  I 
shall  not  admit  that  I  am  mistaken,  for  I  know  you 
very  well,  and  I  also  know  Maurice." 

The  lady  had  risen  and  seemed  prepared  at  first  to 
utter  a  vehement  denial  of  my  statement  ;  but  when 
[  closed  she  threw  herself  again  into  her  chair,  and 
attempted  to  regain  her  composure. 

"  So  you  saw  me  with  Maurice  ?"  she  said.  "  Yes, 
I  had  something  of  importance  to  tell  him,  and,  as 
you  say,  we  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  ourselves.  I 
learned  that  he  was  going  away,  and  I  did  not  wish 
to  lose  the  opportunity." 

I  said  again  that  I  thought  Monsieur  Maurice 
would  be  her  best  escort  to  Algeria.  As  for  myself, 
I  wanted  to  do  anything  reasonable  in  the  way  of 
obliging  her,  but  I  was  not  ambitious  to  be  served  in 
the  way  I  had  been.  If  I  was  to  accompany  her  I 
must  be  put  in  possession  of  the  reason  why  she  pro- 
posed making  the  journey. 

"And  Maurice  told  you  he  was  going  away?"  I 
added.  "  He  is  much  more  confidential  with  you 
than  with  me,  for  he  mentioned  nothing  about  »* 
when  I  saw  him  this  afternoon  at  the  Casino." 


210  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  simply.  "  His  brother  went 
yesterday  and  he  will  go  to-morrow." 

"  Where  are  they  going  ?" 

"  He  did  not  say." 

We  talked  in  this  manner  for  fully  an  hour,  with 
little  result,  so  far  as  my  learning  anything  was  con- 
cerned. The  upshot  of  the  discussion  was  that  I 
agreed  to  sleep  over  the  matter,  and  let  her  know  my 
answer  on  the  following  morning. 

"You  will  go — I  know  you  will,"  she  said  to  me, 
in  her  sweetest  manner.  "  It  will  only  take  a  few 
weeks  of  your  time  and  then  I  shall  return  to 
America  with  a  more  peaceful  mind,  I  hope.  Before 
you  retire  now,  I  want  to  show  you  the  prettiest 
sight  you  ever- saw.  In  a  minute  I  will  be  with 
you." 

Much  wondering  what  she  intended  to  exhibit,  I 
waited  while  she  stepped  into  an  adjoining  room. 
Presently  she  came  to  the  door  and  beckoned  me 
with  a  motion  that  enjoined  quietness.  I  soon  saw 
the  object  of  her  solicitude.  In  a  small  bed,  by  the 
side  of  her  own  larger  one,  lay  Master  Wallace,  in 
the  loveliest  of  childhood's  slumbers. 

"  He  is  mine — mine  alone  !"  said  the  mother, 
earnestly,  when  she  had  closed  the  door.  "  No  one 
else  can  claim  him,  no  one  !  I  will  never  divide  his 
ownership  !" 

The  next  morning  after  debating  the  matter  as 
fully  as  I  could,  I  told  Miss  Brixton  I  would  go  to 
Algeria  with  her,  if  she  was  of  the  same  mind  when 
October  came.  In  the  meantime  I  would  resume 
my  travels,  as  I  intended  to  go  to  Norway  and  other 
points  during  the  summer.  If  she  wished  to  com- 


EVERYTHING   UP   TO   DATE.  2H 

municate  with  me  she  had  only  to  send  anything  in 
care  of  Hottinguer,  the  banker. 

She  thanked  me  effusively,  with  a  thousand  kind 
expressions,  and  the  following  day  I  took  my  leave 
of  Boulogne,  sleeping  the  next  night  at  Brussels. 


MR.   MEDFORD  AGAIN. 
CHAPTER   XXIV. 

EVERYTHING     UP    TO    DATE. 

Mr.  Medford  paused  at  last,  with  the  sentence 
quoted  at  the  close  of  the  preceding  chapter. 
Although  he  had  taken  the  greater  part  of  the  after- 
noon and  evening  in  his  recital  he  had  not  tired  me 
in  the  least. 

*  Is  that  the  end  ?"  I  asked. 

"For  the  present,  yes.  After  I  have  been  to 
Algeria  with  her  there  ought  to  be  something  more 
to  tell." 

"  And  you  will  go  ?" 

"  If  I  live.  I  have  promised,  you  remember.  What 
do  you  think  of  my  story  ?" 

I  answered  that  it  was  most  interesting. 

"  Can  you  interpret  the  riddle  ?"  he  inquired. 
*  Hardly.     If   it   was  a  piece  of    fiction  I  would 
hazard  it,  but  real  life  is  always  playing  unexpected 
tricks  " 


212  OUT   OF    WEDLOCK. 

Mr.  Medford  bowed  to  show  that  he  agreed  with 
this  statement. 

"  You  see  how  it  is,"  he  remarked.  "  M.  Desmou- 
lins  is  undoubtedly  the  father  of  this  child.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  he  was  wounded  by 
Maurice  Fantelli,  the  latter  is  still  his  staunch  friend 
and  would  do  anything  to  serve  him.  Now,  what 
does  M.  Desmoulins  want?  Does  he  wish  to  claim 
his  son  or  does  he  not?  It  is  evident  that  Miss 
Brixton  believed  him  dead  until  she  received  my 
letter  informing  her  to  the  contrary.  I  have  made 
every  effort  to  find  him,  but  without  avail.  Advices 
from  Dijon  only  showed  that  he  is  travelling.  Miss 
Brixtcwi  seems  to  place  reliance  on  Maurice,  as  shown 
by  her  confidential  talk  with  him  the  night  I  saw 
them  together  at  Boulogne.  And  yet  she  would  not 
let  him  accompany  her  to  Algeria,  even  acting 
astounded  at  my  proposition  to  that  effect.  If  I 
could  get  an  hour's  talk  with  Louis  Desmoulins  I 
would  find  out  something  worth  knowing." 

As  he  seemed  to  expect  me  to  say  something  I 
tried  to  oblige  him,  though  I  should  have  pre- 
ferred to  sit  an  hour  in  silence,  the  better  to  com- 
pare the  various  bits  of  evidence  that  presented 
themselves  in  the  case. 

"  Is  there  no  possibility,**  I  said,  "  that  someone 
else  is  this  child's  father — for  instance,  Maurice  f 

Mr.  Medford  stared  at  me  strangely, 

**  I  don't  see  how  you  can  think  that,**  be  replied. 
14  He  tells  me  he  has  a  wife." 

I  elevated  my  brows,  and  responded— 

"  Well  ?'* 

My  companion  looked  at  me  with  a  puzzled  face. 

a  Men  have  been  known  to  break  their  vows,"  ! 


EVERYTHING  UP  TO  DATE.  213 

said.  "  Besides,  Miss  Brixton,  you  say,  showed 
great  astonishment  when  you  told  her  Maurice  was 
married." 

"But  he  never  was  shot!"  exclaimed  Medford. 
"That  is  a  vital  thing  in  this  affair.  Desmoulins  is 
living,  but  he  was  shot,  and  it  was  supposed  he 
would  die.  Maurice,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  has  had 
no  bullet  wound." 

I  had  to  admit  that  this  was  a  point  worth  con- 
sidering. Then  I  tried  to  sum  up  the  facts  that 
appeared  to  be  undisputed.  Somebody,  who  had 
been  in  Algeria  in  the  winter  of  a  certain  year,  was 
Wallace  Brixton's  father  ;  that  Somebody  had  been 
shot,  and  had  been  expected  to  die  ;  the  shooting 
*iad  been  performed  by  Maurice  Fantelli,  under  a 
sudden  impulse  caused  by  an  insult  which  Some- 
body had  given  to  a  lady  whose  initials  were  "  B. 
B."  and  who  was  without  doubt  Miss  Blanche  Brix- 
ton ;  for  this  act  Maurice  had  been  sentenced  to 
imprisonment,  and  after  serving  part  of  his  term  had 
been  pardoned,  largely  on  account  of  the  efforts  of 
the  Somebody  he  had  shot.  Ergo,  the  Somebody 
must  be  Louis  Desmoulins.  Yes,  I  was  obliged  to 
admit  that  it  looked  like  a  clear  case. 

*'  But  why  is  Blanche  going  to  Africa?"  I  inquired. 
**  That  is  the  question  at  present.** 

"Yes,**  said  Medford,  "that  is  the  question. 
Before  I  leave  there  with  net  I  will  have  something 
more  definite  than  a  theory,  too." 

"  She  spoke  about  a  priest,  and  about  a  mayor,** 
I  remarked,  reflectively. 

"And  what  does  that  signify  ?**  asked  Medford. 

I  acknowledged  that  I  did  not  know.  Both  of 
those  functionaries  had  a  considerable  place  in  the 


214  OUT  OP   WEDLOCK. 

arrangement  of  most  Frencli  lives  and  were  to  be 
found  In  Algeria  as  well  as  elsewhere.  But  what 
connection  they  had  with  Miss  Brixton  I  could  not 
guess. 

"  The  best  thing  for  me,"  I  added,  with  a  smile, 
"  in  relation  to  this  story,  is  to  wait,  as  we  do  for 
other  serials,  until  it  'comes  out.'  Speculations  are 
rather  useless." 

"  You  wouldn't  like  to  join  the  party  and  go  to 
Algeria  with  us,  would  you  ?"  asked  Medford,  tenta- 
tively. 

"  I  would,"  said  I,  "  but  for  one  thing.  I  was  there 
some  time  ago  and  explored  the  country  quite 
thoroughly.  I  have  planned  to  spend  next  winter 
in  the  West  Indies.  You  are  very  kind  to  suggest 
my  going,  however,  and  I  am  infinitely  obliged." 

"  It  isn't  altogether  kindness  that  prompts  me," 
said  Medford,  with  the  manner  of  one  who  makes  a 
confession.  "  I  want  to  find  out  the  mystery  in  this 
affair,  and  I  fear  I  shall  never  do  it  alone." 

I  responded  that  I  believed  he  would,  and  added 
that  nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to 
meet  him  when  he  had  done  so. 

"  It  would  be  worth  putting  into  a  book,  wouldn't 
it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Decidedly,"  I  answered  with  enthusiasm. 


The  next  day  I  parted  from  Mr.  Medford,  as  «  jr 
paths  lay  in  opposite  directions.  It  was  nearly  a 
year  before  we  met  again,  and  then  it  was  on 
American  soil,  at  the  Sinclair  House  in  Bethlehem, 
X.  H 


MEETING   MOKSIBUR   MARTIKE.  215 

"I  can  finish  that  story  now,"  he  exclaimed  with 
a  beaming  smile,  as  he  pressed  my  hand  with  the 
ioy  of  our  renewed  meeting. 

"  Finish  it,  then,"  I  said. 

And  he  finished  it. 


MISS   BRIXTON'S   DILEMMA. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

MEETING    MONSIEUR    MARTINE. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  October  [said  Medford, 
when  we  had  taken  seats  in  an  open  carriage  and 
were  being  driven  toward  the  Profile],  that  Miss 
Brixton,  Master  Wallace  and  myself,  with  a  couple 
of  maids  and  a  courier,  started  for  Africa.  Before 
we  began  the  journey  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Blanche, 
in  which  I  endeavored  to  persuade  her  to  give  me  at 
least  an  inkling  of  the  purpose  she  had  in  view,  but 
without  effect.  Even  a  hint  that  I  should  decline  to 
accompany  her  after  all  did  not  swerve  her  from  her 
reticent  attitude. 

"Go  with  me,"  she  pleaded,  "and  as  soon  as  I  can 
possibly  do  so,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  At 
present  I  really  cannot." 

Upon  reaching  Algiers  we  went  to  the  Hotel  de 
1'Oasis,  where  we  were  pleasantly  greeted  by  the 
proprietor,  by  Victor,  and  the  other  members  of  the 


216  om  OF  WEDLOGK. 

establishment  who  remembered  us.  I  soon  dis- 
covered that  something  of  a  secret  nature  was  going 
on,  to  which  the  new  courier  was  a  party,  and  my 
pride  was  slightly  wounded  by  the  reflection  that 
Miss  Brixton  was  willing  to  trust  this  fellow  with 
matters  which  she  did  not  wish  me  to  know.  They 
had  frequent  consultations  that  lasted  for  hours. 
Gustave  would  go  away  for  one  or  two  days  at  a 
time,  and  on  his  return  find  his  mistress  ready  to  see 
him,  no  matter  what  other  engagement  she  might  at 
the  moment  have  on  hand.  I  had  occasion,  once  or 
twice,  myself,  to  make  way  for  him,  and  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  saying  that  I  did  not  particularly  like  it. 

Nearly  a  month  was  passed  in  this  manner,  and  I 
began  to  find  even  beautiful  Algiers  very  dull.  I 
believe  Heaven  itself  would  grow  wearisome  if  I  had 
to  wait  within  its  golden  streets  for  something  to 
happen  of  whose  nature  and  date  I  had  no  reasonable 
conception.  I  wandered  about  the  streets,  through 
the  native  quarter,  over  the  Mustapha  Hill,  and  into 
the  suburbs — all  of  which  I  had  thoroughly  explored 
on  my  previous  visit — until  I  grew  as  tired  of  it  as  I 
could  well  be.  Then,  when  things  were  becoming 
almost  unbearable,  I  met  a  very  interesting  stranger. 

It  was  in  the  office  of  Cook  &  Son,  that  gigantic 
institution  which  one  finds  in  every  corner  of  the 
habitable  globe.  It  was  in  the  down-town  office  of 
the  Cooks,  not  in  the  one  near  the  Governor- 
general's  palace — for  there  are  two  stations  of  the 
company  in  Algiers.  I  was  making  arrangements 
for  a  carnage  in  which  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  monas- 
tery of  La  Trappe,  a  dozen  miles  or  so  inland,  wkere 
I  had  spent  a  pleasant  day  the  previous  winter.  A 
young  Frenchman  entered  the  room  and  inquired 


JCEETING   MONSIEUR   MARTINE.  217 

about  the  Trappist  monastery  just  as  I  had  finished 
my  arrangements  and  was  about  to  leave.  He 
seemed  rather  disappointed  to  find  that  there  was  no 
regular  excursion  carriage  to  the  place,  and  remarked 
casually  that  he  did  not  like  the  idea  of  going  alone. 

"I  thought  you  might  be  getting  up  a  party,"  he 
explained.  "  It  is  tiresome  taking  that  kind  of  a 
journey  all  by  oneself." 

His  words  expressed  so  well  the  thought  that  had 
been  in  my  own  mind  that  I  looked  at  him  with 
interest.  The  next  minute  I  decided  to  take  advan- 
tage of  that  camaraderie  that  prevails  among  fellow- 
travellers,  and  invite  him  to  share  my  equipage. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  monsieur,"  I  said,  "  but  I 
am  going  to  take  the  same  trip  to-morrow  and  I 
shall  be  more  than  pleased  if  you  will  honor  me 
with  your  company." 

The  Frenchman  hesitated,  eyeing  me  with  some 
surprise. 

"  You  are  extremely  kind,"  he  replied.  "  As  I  was 
saying,  I  dislike  these  lonely  journeys.  Are  you — 
is  there  anyone  else  to  go  with  you  ?" 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  Unless  you  accept,  I  shall  be 
entirely  alone." 

"  Then,"  he  answered,  as  if  relieved,  "  I  shall  do 
so  with  great  pleasure." 

Remarking  to  the  agent  that  he  would  not  need  a 
carriage  of  his  own  now,  the  gentleman  walked  out 
of  the  office  with  me.  Our  conversation,  begun  so 
abruptly,  continued  as  we  strolled  together  along 
the  line  of  the  sea-coast,  in  an  opposite  direction 
from  my  hotel.  When  I  tendered  him  my  card  he 
searched  in  his  pocket  for  his  own  card-case  ;  and 
then,  finding  that  he  had  left  it  in  his  room,  informed 


218  OUT  OP   WEDLOCK. 

me  that  his  name  was  Jules  Marline  and  that  he  was 
touring   the   country   for    pleasure,   like    myself.     I 
learned  in  the  course  of  the  next  hour  that  this  was 
his  second  visit  to  Africa,  and  that  he  had  also  vis 
ited  the  monastery  on  a  previous  occasion. 

"  It  is  worth  seeing  a  second  time,"  he  remarked, 
earnestly.  "I  think  it  one  of  the  most  entertaining 
places  I  ever  saw.  The  last  time  I  was  there  an 
event  occurred  that  I  shall  not  soon  forget." 

I  looked  the  inquiry  I  did  not  need  to  put  into 
words. 

"  It  was  a  strange  affair,"  continued  M.  Marline. 
"  I  was  with  a  party  of  sight-seers,  among  whom  was 
a  very  beauliful  young  lady  of  your  counlry.  Bui — • 
perhaps  I  should  bore  you  with  Ihe  history." 

I  had  caught  so  eagerly  at  the  few  words  already 
uttered  that  I  had  difficulty  in  repressing  my  anx, 
if  ty  to  hear  the  rest,  lest  I  should  excite  his  suspic- 
ions. I  replied  as  calmly  as  possible  that  I  should 
like  very  much  to  hear  of  Ihe  incidenl,  as  anylhing 
oul  of  the  common  possessed  a  peculiar  charm  for 
me. 

"Well,"  said  M.  Marline,  afler  a  moment 's  pause 
"  it  was  this  way  : 

"There  was  in  the  party  a  gentleman  who  had,  it 
seemed,  conceived  a  violent  passion  for  the  young 
lady,  which  she  did  not  wholly  return.  He  had 
formed  the  very  unique  plan  of  gelling  one  of  the 
monks  lo  marry  them,  without  her  knowledge." 

I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  Withoul  her  knowledge  !"  I  repealed. 

"Yes.  It  was  this  way:"  (M.  Marline  had,  like 
many  olher  men,  a  warm  altachment  lo  a  favorile 
phrase.)  "  The  young  lady  understood  very  Hide,  if 


MEETING   MONSIEUR   MARTINE.  21> 

%ny  French,  which  was  the  native  tongue  of  her  ad- 
ttiirer.  He  believed,  in  his  ardor — and  you  know 
there  is  nothing  so  blind  as  a  lover  — that  if  he  could 
get  a  ceremony  performed,  he  could  persuade  her  to 
abide  by  it,  and  become  his  wife  in  reality." 

I  interrupted  to  ask  what  had  taken  place  up  to 
that  time  ;  whether  the  gentleman  had  told  the  lady 
of  his  love  and  been  rejected,  or  whether  he  had 
held  his  secret  locked  in  his  own  bosom. 

"It  was  this  way,"  replied  M.  Martine  :  "The 
gentleman  had  been  presented  to  the  lady  and  had 
made  known  his  passion.  She  had  answered  by  the 
very  strange  statement  that  she  was  wholly  averse 
to  marriage  and  would  not  listen  to  a  proposal  of 
that  kind  from  anyone.  At  first  he  thought  this  a 
mere  pretext,  a  more  courteous  way  of  saying  fare- 
well than  by  a  direct  rejection.  Being  in  love  to  an 
extreme  degree  he  was  not  willing  to  surrender  his 
hopes  without  doing  his  utmost  to  bring  them  to 
full  fruition.  He,  therefore,  as  is  customary  in  such 
cases,  made  liberal  presents  to  the  lady's  maid  and 
courier,  seeking  to  learn  through  them  the  real  con- 
dition of  her  mind.  In  spite  of  his  generosity,  both 
of  them  persisted  that  mademoiselle  had  told  him 
the  truth.  They  said  she  was  one  of  those  women 
who  have  a  positive  aversion  for  matrimony,  and 
being  possessed  of  an  ample  fortune  had  determined 
to  enjoy  it  alone,  untrammelled  by  the  restrictions 
of  the  wedded  state.  Do  what  he  could,  they  stuck 
to  one  story,  the  same  in  effect  that  the  lady  had 
given  him.  Then  it  was  that  he  resolved  to  try  the 
plan  I  have  mentioned,  believing  she  might  relent 
when  he  had  a  document  in  his  hand  averring  that 
she  was  already  his  wife." 


220  OUT  or  WEDLOCK. 

It  was  an  odd  history,  truly,  and  I  showed  the 
interest  I  felt  so  strongly  that  my  companion  looked 
gratified.  One  of  the  pleasantest  things  about  any 
recital  is  to  secure  a  thoroughly  attentive  listener. 

"And  did  the  scheme  succeed  ?"  I  asked.  Though 
feeling  certain  that  Miss  Brixton  was  the  lady 
implicated,  I  need  not  say  the  question  was  super- 
fluous. 

"No,"  said  M.  Marline,  and  I  thought  he  spoke 
regretfully.  "  It  was  this  way  :  The  idea  was  to 
arrange  the  matter  with  one  of  the  oldest  monks. 
The  lady  was  told  that  she  would  see  an  exposition 
of  the  ritualistic  work  of  the  order.  The  way  was 
led  into  the  chapel  and  the  services  proceeded,  to  the 
evident  entertainment  of  mademoiselle.  All  was 
apparently  going  well.  There  were  no  persons  pres- 
ent, except  the  three  I  have  mentioned,  the  lady's 
maid — and  myself." 

I  interrupted  to  remark  that  my  informant  had 
evidently  been  let  into  the  secret  of  his  friend's 
purpose. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  It  was  this  way  :  I  sympathized 
fully  with  his  ardent  desire  to  possess  that  beautiful 
creature.  His  intentions  were  in  the  highest  degree 
honorable,  though  his  method  of  attaining  the 
desired  result  could  only  be  justified  by  the  proverb, 
*  All's  fair  in  love  and  war.'  My  friend,  be  it  under- 
stood, belonged  to  both  those  branches,  holding  a 
commission  in  the  service  of  the  Republic,  and  being 
at  the  time  quartered  near  here  with  his  regiment. 
I  reasoned  that  there  would  be  no  harm  in  the  affair, 
for  even  if  the  monk  performed  a  religious  ceremony 
which  the  lady  accepted,  it  would,  according  to 
French  law,  require  still  another  ceremony — a  civil 


MEETING  MONSIEUR   MABTINE.  221 

one — to  make  it  legally  binding.  It  was  merely  a 
bit  of  strategy  to  bring  the  lady  to  a  sensible  view 
of  her  natural  destiny,  and  it  would  have  been  suc- 
cessful but  for  the  fact  that  Father  Ambrose  had  his 
suspicions  aroused  and  refused  to  finish  the  work  he 
had  begun." 

As  it  was  nearing  the  dinner  hour,  I  suggested 
that  we  retrace  our  steps,  which  we  did,  walking 
slowly. 

''You  never  saw  anything  progress  better  up  to 
the  critical  moment,"  continued  my  new  acquaint- 
ance. "The  lady  was  engrossed  in  the  mysticism 
of  the  service  she  did  not  in  the  least  comprehend. 
Her  maid — bribed  in  advance — gave  the  most  plaus- 
ible explanations  to  each  part  of  the  ceremony,  and 
the  lady  answered  when  told,  without  question.  7. 
don't  know  what  made  it  enter  the  head  of  that  con- 
founded monk  that  anything  was  wrong,  but  he 
certainly  got  that  impression,  and  before  he  reached 
the  more  important  words  he  called  a  young  assist- 
ant and  despatched  him  for  a  member  of  the  frater- 
nity who  understood  English.  Realizing  that  his 
efforts  were  destined  to  be  foiled,  my  friend  ad- 
mitted his  fault  to  the  friar,  who  upraided  him 
without  stint,  and  in  such  a  tone  that  the  lady 
became  alarmed.  The  carriages  in  which  we  had 
come  were  sought  without  waiting  for  the  arrival 
of  the  other  monk,  and  we  left  the  monastery  dis- 
appointed incur  scheme,  but  luckily  without  having 
the  least  suspicion  aroused  in  the  mind  of  the  one 
most  concerned." 

Was  it  Miss  Brixton  ?  I  wanted  desperately  to 
know,  but  I  did  not  intend  to  repeat  the  error,  as  I 
had  always  considered  it,  which  I  perpetrated  with 


222  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

Maurice  Fantelli.  It  was  for  me  to  learn  all  I  cou.d 
from  this  stranger,  and  give  him  as  little  as  possible 
in  return.  As  coolly  as  possible  I  asked  if  this  was 
the  end  of  his  remarkable  story. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  with  something  like  a  sigh. 
"It  is,  however,  all  I  feel  justified  in  telling  at 
present.  Is  it  not  the  most  peculiar  account  you 
ever  heard  ?" 

I  admitted  that  it  was  indeed  strange,  but  said  I 
could  match  it,  if  I  chose,  with  one  equally  out  of 
the  common.  My  only  trouble  was  that  I  doubted 
my  right  to  reveal  what  was  the  secret  of  another. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  under  that  restriction,"  he 
said.  'c  Is  the  matter  one  that  came  under  your  own 
observation  ?" 

"  It  was  told  to  me,"  I  replied,  evasively.  "  There 
was  also  a  young  lady  in  it,  and — a  French  officer  ; 
yes,  an  officer  stationed  in  Algeria." 

M.  Marline  looked  at  me  quickly.  His  eyes 
dilated  and  his  cheeks  grew  red. 

"  You  mean  more  than  your  words  imply,"  he 
said.  "  If  you  have  any  knowledge  of  the  lady  of 
whom  I  have  been  speaking,  monsieur,  I  trust  y©u 
will  confide  it  to  me." 

He  had  been  too  rapid  for  my  plan.  Now  that 
the  point  was  raised,  I  could  do  no  less  than  try  to 
meet  it. 

"  How  can  I  tell  whether  it  be  the  same  lady,"  I 
asked,  "  when  you  have  not  even  given  me  her 
name  ?" 

Monsieur  Martine  colored  still  more. 

*'  You  can  understand  that  that  might  be  impossi- 
ble," he  said. 

"  Hardly." 


M  METING   MONSIEUR   MAETINE.  223 

"One  cannot  use  the  name  of  a  lady  in  such  a  case 
without  her  consent." 

"  Then,"  I  said,  "  how  shall  we  proceed  to  decide 
if  it  be  the  same  one  ?" 

"  Ah  !"  he  exclaimed.  "It  is  indeed  a  difficulty. 
But  have  you  told  me  all  you  can  ?  The  lady  you 
speak  of  had  some  relations  with  a  French  officer 
stationed  hereabouts.  When  was  this  ?" 

"  About  three  years  ago." 

I  could  feel  the  almost  imperceptible  start  that 
greeted  my  reply. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  this  lady  is  at  the  present 
time?"  he  asked  with  suppressed  eagerness. 

I  smiled  at  the  question. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  do  so  without  her  consent,**  I 
Said,  using  his  own  expression. 

He  bowed  abstractedly,  admitting  the  truth  of  my 
observation  by  his  manner. 

"You  will  perhaps  tell  whether  you  have  ever  met 
her  ?"  he  asked,  his  eagerness  returning. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  deny  that  I  have." 

"  Very  long  ago  ?" 

"  Some  time  after  the  Algerian  episode,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"  And — was  she  well  in  health  ?" 

44  Remarkably  so." 

Monsieur  Martine  seemed  uneasy  at  the  sharp 
looks  with  which  I  regarded  him. 

"  You  will  comprehend  the  reason  of  my  inquiries,** 
he  said,  "  when  I  tell  you  that  I  expect  to  meet  my 
friend,  the  officer,  soon,  and  I  know  he  will  be  most 
anxious." 

This  was  news  indeed. 


224  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

"  You  expect  to  return  to  France  ?"  I  said,  inter 
relatively. 

"  Before  a  great  while." 

"  You  will  be  more  lucky  than  other  people  if  you 
ind  your  friend,"  I  could  not  help  saying.  "  He  has 
not  been  at  Dijon  for  many  months." 

M.  Martine  opened  his.  eyes  wider. 

"  Why  should  you  think  he  would  be  at  Dijon  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  Because  it  is  the  home  of  his  family.  While  I 
cannot  discuss  the  lady  in  this  case  beyond  a  certain 
point,  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  hide  the 
name  of  the  gentleman.  I  trust  if  you  have  the  pres- 
ent address  of  M.  Desmoulins,  you  will  give  it  to  me. 
as  I  have  most  important  business  which  I  would 
be  glad  to  transactwith  him." 

My  companion  had  stopped  on  the  sidewalk,  and 
was  regarding  me  with  an  expression  too  peculiar  to 
translate. 

"M.  Desmoulins  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  M.  Louis  Des- 
moulins?" 

"Precisely.  The  lady  I  speak  of  had  relations  of 
the  most  important  character  with  that  gentleman. 
I  have  tried  my  best  to  find  him  during  the  summer 
that  is  just  past.  I  have  a  number  of  questions  to 
ask  him  that  I  think  he  will  not  refuse  to  answer." 

Monsieur  Martine  was  unaccountably  agitated. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,"  he  said,  icily,  "  that  the  friend 
to  whom  I  referred  was  not  M.  Desmoulins.  When  you 
say  Mademoiselle — " 

"Mile.  B— "  I  interrupted.  "We  will  call  he* 
Mile.  B." 

He  caught  his  breath. 

••We   will  call  her  Miss   Brixton,"  he   corrected 


MEETING   MONSIEUR   MARTINS.  225 

*Now,  when  you  say  that  she  had  'relations  ot  an 
Important  character,'  with  M.  Desmoulins,  I  wish 
you  would  indicate  in  some  manner  what  you 
mean." 

The  attitude  which  M.  Martine  had  suddenly  assum- 
ed was  so  different  from  that  of  a  few  moments  be- 
fore— almost  belligerent,  in  fact — that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  I  was  sorry  that  any  controversy  had 
arisen,  for  I  had  begun  to  like  the  fellow,  and  had 
contemplated  the  ride  with  him  on  the  morrow  with 
the  greatest  satisfaction.  I  could  not  get  very  angry, 
as  I  knew  nothing  that  should  cause  the  Frenchman's 
change  toward  me,  and  yet  I  did  not  like  the  dicta- 
torial tone  he  used. 

"There  is  a  misunderstanding,"  I  replied.  "  I  had 
not  the  slightest  doubt,  until  a  minute  ago,  that  you 
were  talking  all  this  time  of  M.  Louis  Desmoulins,  of 
Dijon.  The  lady  I  mean  certainly  had  the  very 
closest  friendship — if  the  word  is  sufficiently  strong 
— with  that  gentleman.  It  was,  so  far  as  I  knew,  a 
matter  of  greater  interest  to  themselves  than  to  any- 
one else.  Being  connected  with  her  family,  in  a 
financial  way,  I  have  reasons  for  wishing  to  meet 
him.  Why  you  excite  yourself  over  the  affair  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  conceive." 

My  companion  caught  every  word  with  breathless 
interest.  When  I  had  finished,  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  photograph  and  presented  it  before  my 
eyes. 

"  Is  that  the  lady  ?"  he  demanded. 

It  certainly  was  Miss  Brixton.  A  glance  at  the 
card  showed  that  it  was  taken  by  an  Algiers  photog- 
rapher, and  the  likeness  was  excellent.  There  was 


226  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

no  need  that  I  should  admit  as  much  in  words,  for 
my  face  must  have  told  its  story. 

"  I  shall  have  to  bid  you  adieu,"  said  M.  Marline, 
grimly,  putting  the  picture  back  into  his  pocket. 
"  And  as  I  leave  for  France  on  the  boat  to-morrow, 
I  shall  be  unable  to  accept  your  hospitality  on  the 
way  to  La  Trappe." 

He  looked  so  dark,  and  was  so  evidently  affected 
by  some  concealed  emotion,  that  I  viewed  him  with 
genuine  concern.  But  I  had  so  little  idea  what  was 
the  matter  that  I  could  say  nothing  to  alter  his 
determination. 

"  My  friend,"  pursued  M.  Marline,  in  a  cold,  set 
voice,  "  will  have  business  to  transact  with  M.  Desmou- 
lins  of  more  importance  than  yours  can  possibly  be. 
Unless  I  misapprehend  the  probabilities,  the  gentle- 
man from  Dijon  will  be  in  no  condition  to  see  you 
after  my  friend  has  done  with  him." 

Turning  on  his  heel,  with  a  lift  of  the  hat,  Mon- 
sieur Marline  made  his  adieux.  I  was  too  astonished 
to  follow  him  or  to  utter  another  word. 

It  was  fully  fifteen  minutes  later  that  I  thoroughly 
comprehended  what  his  wild  expressions  probably 
meant. 

Louis  Desmoulins  had  mortally  offended  an 
unknown  admirer  of  Miss  Brixlon's  and  was  likely 
to  pay  for  the  affront  with  his  life  1 


A  VISIT  TO   A   MONASTERY.  227 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A   VISIT    TO    A   MONASTERY. 

I  am  sometimes  a  little  slow  in  coming  to  a  de- 
cision, but  when  made  it  is  not  long  in  being 
executed.  The  boats  that  ply  between  Algiers  and 
Marseilles,  the  trains  that  go  from  thence  to  Dijon, 
are  of  reasonable  swiftness  ;  but  there  is  one  thing 
that  travels  much  faster  than  either — the  telegraph. 

If  M.  Martine  was  determined  to  send  his  friend 
to  Dijon,  with  the  intention  of  drawing  M.  Desmou- 
lins  into  mortal  combat — I  did  not  for  an  instant 
accuse  him  of  a  more  sinister  purpose — there  was 
but  one  manner  in  which  I  could  prevent  a  collision. 
I  must  warn  Desmoulins.  In  what  manner? 
Clearly  in  a  way  that  would  not  leave  him  to  face 
the  charge  of  cowardice.  I  could  not  wire  him  of 
the  truth,  because,  however  unwillingly,  he  would 
have  to  wait  and  meet  his  enemy.  I  must  invent  a 
plan  that  would  take  him  away  from  Dijon  before 
the  friend  of  Monsieur  Martine  arrived  there. 

There  are  times  when  several  birds  may  as  well 
be  killed  with  one  stone  as  with  more.  If  Desmou- 
lins was  at  Dijon,  no  one  wanted  to  see  him  more 
than  I.  If  he  could  be  induced  to  come  to  Algiers  I 
might  accomplish  the  double  result  of  asking  the 
questions  I  had  waited  for  so  long  and  putting  him 
out  of  the  reach,  for  the  present,  of  Marline's  friend. 
If  he  was  not  at  Dijon,  my  telegram  would  not 


228  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

reach  him,  but  neither  would  his  angry  pursuer.     It 
was  worth  trying. 

After  some  hours  of  study  I  evolved  the  following 
despatch  : 

"  Monsieur  le  Colonel  Louis  Desmoulins — Dijon.  A 
matter  involving  your  highest  honor  demands  your  pres- 
ence instantly  at  Algiers.  Come,  without  a  second's 
delay.  MEDFORD,  Hotel  de  1'Oasis." 

Proceeding  to  the  post-office,  from  which  ail 
telegrams  are  sent  in  Algeria,  as  in  most  European 
countries,  I  copied  this  despatch  on  a  blank  that  was 
handed  me.  Then,  drawing  out  my  purse,  I  awaited 
the  announcement  of  the  sum  to  be  paid,  jingling 
several  louis  in  my  hand.  I  knew  that  the  telegram 
would  have  to  be  cabled  five  hundred  miles  under  the 
Mediterranean,  and  then  repeated  and  sent  five  hun- 
dred miles  more  to  its  destination.  Familiarity  with 
American  rates,  and  the  prices  charged  for  use  of 
the  Atlantic  cables,  had  made  me  believe  that  my 
message  would  cost  eight  or  ten  dollars.  Judge  of 
my  surprise,  then,  when  I  was  informed  that  the 
entire  charge  would  be  fifty-two  cents  ! 

"  The  rate  is  a  cent  a  word  in  Algeria  or  France, 
you  know,"  said  the  clerk,  when  I  repeated  the 
figures  in  an  astonished  tone.  "  But  for  the  cable 
the  charge  is  also  a  cent,  which  makes  the  rate 
double." 

"  Cheap  enough,  if  it  accomplishes  the  result 
hoped  for  !"  was  my  mental  comment,  as  I  turned 
away. 

I  found  Miss  Brixto1*  ready  to  dine  and  ac- 
tompanied  her  to  the  pleasant  salle-d.-manger,  which 
was  nearly  filled  when  we  arrived.  Among  the 


A  VISIT    TO  A    MONASTERY.  229 

guests  was  an  English  actress,  who  a  short  time  ago 
made  a  fortune  by  playing  in  the  United  States,  and 
who  at  one  time  bore  the  reputation  of  being  the 
handsomest  lady  in  the  world.  She  was  ac- 
companied by  the  grandson  of  one  of  the  most 
famous  English  statesmen  who  ever  lived,  a  fine- 
looking  youth,  some  ten  years  her  junior,  and  they 
were  the  observed  of  all  observers.  I  whispered  to 
Miss  Brixton  who  they  were,  and  immediately 
regretted  having  done  so.  For  she  replied  coldly 
that  she  had  no  interest  in  such  people,  and  did  not 
care  to  look  at  them.  Although  they  remained  the 
next  two  days  at  the  hotel  with  us,  Blanche  never 
saw  their  faces,  the  only  woman  there,  I  am  sure, 
who  could  say  as  much. 

I  could  not  help  thinking  how  much  greater  was 
the  fault  of  the  American  lady,  judged  by  the 
unpitying  standard  of  the  world,  than  that  of  the 
English  one.  The  latter  had  at  least  no  living  evi- 
dence of  her  frailty,  paraded  in  the  face  of  all  who 
cared  to  know.  I  had  taken  pains,  on  my  own 
account,  to  give  the  impression  to  Victor  and  the 
Delrieus  that  Wallace  was  an  adopted  child,  for 
otherwise  we  should  have  been  watched  as  intently, 
if  not  more  so,  than  the  other  party. 

Miss  Brixton  realized  what  was  passing  in  my 
mind,  and  when  we  had  gone  to  her  salon  to  take 
the  coffee  that  was  usually  served  to  us  there,  she 
began  to  talk  of  the  matter. 

"You  have  never  changed  your  opinion  about  me,  I 
see,"  was  the  way  she  began.  "  I  am  the  same 
foolish,  wicked  girl  to  you  still." 

I  asked  her  why  she  said  that. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  can  read  your  mind  ?'*  she 


230  €>UT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

inquired.     "  You  considered  it  inconsistent  of  me  to 

speak  so  harshly  of  Mrs. ,  xvhen  I,  myself,  have 

ignored  the  opinion  of  Society.     Let  me  beg  you  to 
tell  me  candidly — can  you  see  no  difference?" 

I  responded  to  this  direct  question  that  I  had 
never  debated  the  matter  of  her  conduct,  and  did 
not  intend  to  begin  now. 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  smiling  gravely  at  my  dis- 
comfiture, which  was  evident.  "  I  must  defend 
myself  without  your  aid.  That  woman  you  saw  in 
the  dining-room,  if  rumor  is  to  be  believed,  married 
an  English  gentleman,  and  then  left  him  in  order  to 
gratify  her  love  for  flattery  and  luxurious  living. 
She  is  noted  chiefly  for  her  numerous  lovers,  and  the 
fortune  she  has  accumulated  out  of  their  gifts.  That 
she  has  borne  no  child  is  presumptive  evidence 
against  her  of  a  much  more  damaging  character. 
And  yet  you  think  me  as  bad  as  she,  because,  to 
meet  the  mother-craving  in  my  heart,  I  stepped 
aside  just  once  !" 

Her  voice  was  trembling  as  she  reached  the  con- 
cluding sentence,  and  her  eyes  were  moist  with  tears. 
"We  shall  gain  nothing  by  this  line  of  conversa- 
tion," I  said,  "  which  must  necessarily  be  one-sided. 
Let  us  return  to  something  of  more  moment.  I 
came  here  with  you  at  your  earnest  solicitation.  We 
have  been  here  nearly  three  weeks,  and  I  cannot  see 
that  I  have  been  of  the  slightest  use.  By  our  under- 
standing I  was  to  remain  a  month,  and  I  must  remind 
you  that  the  time  will  soon  be  ended." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  find  it  so  dull,"  she  replied,  "  but 
t  know  it  must  seem  so,  as  you  spent  so  long  a  time 
here  before.  The  matter  I  am  investigating  has 
taken  me  a  little  longer  than  I  supposed  it  would, 


A  VISIT    TO    A   MONASTERY.  231 

but  I  think  it  will  be  finished  very  soon  now.  Your 
presence  is  of  immense  moral  value,  and  even  if  you 
should  be  compelled  to  stay  a  few  days  beyond  the 
time  I  spoke  of,  I  hope  you  will  not  be  too  much 
incommoded  to  oblige  me." 

I  asked  her  if  she  was  still  unable  to  confide  in  me 
to  any  extent  whatever. 

"  At  present,  yes,"  she  answered,  sadly.  "  But  I 
am  liable  at  any  moment  to  need  your  advice,  in 
which  case  I  may  be  compelled  to  tell  you  every- 
thing." 

I  mentioned  the  intention  I  had  of  going  to  La 
Trappe  on  the  following  day,  and  noticed  the  start 
she  gave  at  the  name. 

"  Have  you  never  been  there?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  have  been  everywhere  in  this  neigh- 
borhood ;  but  one  must  do  something  to  pass  the 
time.  Would  you  like  to  go  ?"  I  added,  as  the 
thought  struck  me. 

"I?     No,  I  think  not." 

"You  have  been  there  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  responded,  reminiscently.  "They  are 
a  set  of  nice  old  men,  but  I  would  not  care  to  see 
them  twice.  Besides,  Wallace  would  find  the  jour- 
ney tedious,  and  I  could  not  think  of  leaving  him." 

I  had  no  desire  to  excite  her  suspicions  and  I  said  no 
more  about  the  monastery.  In  the  morning  I  made 
an  early  start,  as  it  was  rather  warm  in  the  middle  of 
the  day,  being  early  in  November.  Upon  arriving  I 
inquired  for  Father  Ambrose  and  put  myself  under 
his  guidance.  He  had  not  seen  me  on  my  previous 
visit,  and  he  went  through  the  extensive  farm  which 
the  monks  cultivate,  showing  me  the  cattle,  the 
wine-presses,  the  store-houses  and  other  evidences 


232  OUT  or  WEDLOCK. 

of  prosperity  which  these  strange  recluses  possess 
When  we  reached  the  chapel  I  drew  his  attention 
gradually  to  the  matter  which  M.  Marline  had  confided 
to  me,  and  found  that  he  remembered  it  very  well. 

"  It  was  a  narrow  escape,"  he  said.  "  If  my  wits 
had  not  come  to  me  just  as  they  did  I  should  have 
pronounced  the  couple  man  and  wife.  Their  flight 
proves  that  I  guessed  correctly.  The  man  did  not 
dare  await  the  coming  of  a  brother  who  spoke 
English." 

"  A  friend  of  the  gentleman  told  me  all  about  it," 
I  explained.  "  He  says  the  lover  was  so  infatuated 
with  the  lady  that  he  took  this  means  to  put  a  moral 
pressure  upon  her,  intending  later  to  have  the  civil 
ceremony  in  Algiers.  She  supposed  you  were  simply 
giving  them  your  blessing." 

The  monk  crossed  himself  devoutly. 

"The  devil  is  fruitful  of  expedients  to  mislead  the 
faithful,"  he  said.  "The  lady  was  a  very  beautiful 
creature,  one  whose  worth  was  evident  to  any  who 
saw  her  countenance.  I  trust  she  has  escaped  the 
machinations  of  such  a  wicked  man." 

Something  impelled  me  to  relate  a  little  of  the 
subsequent  history  of  Miss  Brixton  to  this  hermit. 
I  wanted  to  know  what  he  would  say  when  I  told 
him  all  I  knew. 

"  She  has  very  peculiar  ideas,  good  father,"  I 
responded.  "  For  instance,  she  believes  that  mar- 
riage is  not  a  necessary  precursor  of  motherhood." 

"St.  Denis  preserve  us  !"  cried  the  priest. 

"  Yes,"  I  continued.  "  She  is  now  the  mother  of  a 
boy  two  years  of  age,  and  still  unwedded.  Under- 
stand, this  is  merely  carrying  out  a  doctrine  that  she 


A    VISIT    TO   A   MONASTERY.  283 

firmly  believes  in — not  a  yielding  to  passionate 
instinct." 

The  monk  crossed  himself  again. 

"So  innocent  she  looked  !"  he  exclaimed.  "Ah  ! 
How  little  one  can  tell  by  the  faces  of  these  women  ! 
One  came  here  from  Algiers,  only  the  other  day,  of 
whom  the  most  dreadful  things  are  said,  and  before 
I  knew  I  had  remarked  to  one  of  our  brothers  who 
has  a  talent  for  painting  that  she  would  make  a 
lovely  Madonna  !'* 

The  simple  lunch  served  at  the  monastery  was  par- 
taken of,  and  I  rested  in  the  shadow  of  its  walls 
until  the  sun  was  well  on  the  way  toward  the  hori- 
zon. Before  departing  I  purchased  a  number  of 
trinkets  carved  by  the  fraternity,  to  keep  or  give 
away  as  souvenirs. 

When  I  reached  the  Hotel  de  1'Oasis,  Miss  Brix- 
ton  had  dined,  it  being  so  late  that  she  had  ceased  to 
expect  me.  I  soon  found  that  she  was  holding  an 
audience  with  my  rival  in  her  temporary  regard— 
the  courier,  Gustave,  who  had  been  absent  for  the 
previous  three  or  four  days.  Not  caring  to  intrude 
on  a  conversation  I  had  reason  to  suppose  would 
have  elements  of  privacy,  I  went  out  for  a  stroll 
along  the  Boulevard  de  la  Republique,  that  magni- 
ficent way  which  cost,  it  is  said,  the  sum  of  forty 
million  dollars  to  create.  When  I  returned,  I  was 
informed  that  Miss  Brixton  wished  to  see  me  imme- 
diately, and  I  went  without  delay  to  her  rooms. 

"  Can  you  leave  here  with  us  in  the  morning  ?" 
was  the  question  that  greeted  me,  as  she  opened  the 
door. 

"  For  what  point  ?"  I  asked,  somewhat  astonished. 

**  For  Constantine." 


234  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Having  heard  nothing  about  that  city  in  connec- 
tion with  the  business  on  hand,  I  was  naturally  much 
surprised. 

"  We  shall  stop  for  a  night  at  Hamman-Meskou- 
tine — on  Wallace's  account — and  go  on  the  next 
day,"  explained  Miss  Brixton. 

I  could  not  think  of  anything  to  prevent  my  going 
My  baggage  could  be  packed  in  fifteen  minutes. 
"  Have  you  heard  news  ?"  I  asked. 
"Yes,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  lacked  steadiness. 
"  But  nothing  you  can  tell  me  ?" 
"  Not — not  yet." 

The  beautiful  eyes  faltered  before  my  gaze. 
"  After  Constantine,  shall  I  still  be  kept  in  igno 
ranee  ?" 

"That  will  depend,"  she  said,  hesitatingly. 
"  On    your    whim  ?"    I   inquired,   without   undue 
politeness. 

"  No  !  oh,  no  !  On  circumstances  that  may  arise. 
Trust  me  a  little  longer,  I  pray.  In  the  morning, 
remember,"  she  added,  as  I  rose  to  go.  "  Get  the 
garden  to  rouse  you,  for  the  train  goes  early." 

I  told  her  there  was  no  need  of  informing  the  g-ar- 
fon,  as  I  was  an  early  riser,  and  would  not  fail  to  be 
on  time.  But  when  I  was  about  ready  for  break- 
fast, on  the  following  morning,  one  of  the  waiters 
came  to  call  me,  saying  he  had  been  asked  to  do  so 
by  Miss  Brixton. 

On  the  train  I  occupied  myself  with  amusing  Mas- 
ter Wallace,  who  grew  interested  from  time  to  time 
in  the  cavalcades  of  Arabs  queerly  mounted,  some- 
times on  camels,  sometimes  on  donkeys  and  again  on 
horses,  which  could  be  seen  in  the  highway  that  is  to 
be  seen  from  the  railroad.  Across  nearly  the  whole 


"THE  PRIEST  TOLD  YOU?"  235 

of  French  Africa  this  road  is  to  be  seen,  built  of 
cracked  stone,  after  the  plan  invented  or  applied  by 
McAdam,  and  as  well  cared  for  as  any  suburban 
drive  around  Boston,  New  York  or  Chicago. 
Through  lowlands  it  is  built  up  to  a  higher  level, 
with  culverts  at  frequent  intervals,  for  the  quick 
rains.  Through  hills  it  is  channelled  as  carefully  as 
the  railway  itself,  and  even  tunnels  are  found  where 
required.  The  object  of  all  this  expense  is  military, 
the  owners  of  the  territory  wishing  to  march  their 
men,  or  draw  their  cannon  with  expedition  in  case  of 
need.  But  the  value  to  the  country  is  as  great  as  if 
it  had  been  constructed  solely  for  the  use  of  peace- 
ful travellers. 

When  the  boy  went  to  sleep,  I  talked  with  Miss 
Brixton  about  the  territory  through  which  we  were 
passing,  and  which  both  of  us  had  seen  before.  We 
said  nothing  that  day  in  reference  to  her  private 
affairs.  They  might  have  escaped  my  mind  but  for 
the  silent  witness  to  what  had  been — the  pretty  child 
lying  on  its  pillow  by  its  mother's  side. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  THE    FREEST    TOLD   YOU  ?" 

I  was  glad  the  stop  was  made  at  Hamman-Mes- 
koutine.  In  passing  through  this  section  before,  I 
had  only  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  most  remarkable 
natural  wonder,  the  boiling  Niagara  which  falls  thirty 
feet  over  white  rocks,  at  a  temperature  of  203  deg. 


286  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

Fahrenheit.  From  whence  comes  this  volume  of 
water,  the  thousands  of  gallons  that  flow  each 
minute,  day  after  day  the  year  through,  and  have 
done  so  for  tens  of  centuries  ?  Every  little  while 
the  watcher  from  below  the  cataract  can  see  small 
fish  and  crabs  floating  in  the  stream,  showing  that 
at  some  point  below  the  surface  rivers  of  cool  water 
are  precipitated  into  the  cauldron  and  sent  forth  in 
those  scalding  bubbles.  The  steam,  not  only  from 
the  great  fall,  but  from  several  smaller  springs  in  the 
vicinity,  is  constantly  clouding  the  air  in  the  neigh- 
borhood and  the  effect  of  the  whole  scene  is  weird 
and  marvellous.  The  heat  is  so  great  that  even  at  a 
distance  of  seven  hundred  feet  away  one  cannot 
hold  his  hand  in  the  running  water. 

The  "  hotel "  was  the  queerest  I  ever  saw.  It 
consisted  of  the  owner's  residence,  the  only  part  of 
which  used  by  the  guests  appeared  to  be  the  dining- 
room  and  office  ;  with  bedrooms  arranged  in  fours 
at  some  distance  from  the  house,  built  in  rows  like 
negro  cabins  in  the  South  of  America.  The  wild- 
ness  of  the  country  made  the  appearance  of  these 
bedrooms  anything  but  assuring,  for  they  were 
unconnected  with  the  main  mansion  by  a  bell  or 
other  contrivance  ;  and  to  add  to  the  strangeness  of 
the  situation  we  could  see  from  our  windows  the 
camp-fires  of  wandering  Kabyles,  not  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away. 

Miss  Brixton  declared  at  once  that  she  could  never 
close  her  eyes  in  such  a  place.  She  began  to  shut 
her  windows  and  arrange  a  barricade  for  her  door, 
besides  ordering  Gustave  to  sit  at  the  entrance, 
armed  to  the  teeth  against  possible  invasion.  The 
servants  of  the  hotel  laughed  at  her  fears,  saying 


"  THE   PRIEST  TOLD  YOU  ?"  237 

they  had  never  heard  of  anyone  being  hurt  by  the 
natives  thereabouts  or  of  having  anything  stolen.  It 
was  the  universal  custom  to  leave  all  windows  and 
doors  wide  open,  both  day  and  night,  no  matter  what 
valuables  were  inside. 

As  the  evening  was  warm  and  the  rooms  stifling  if 
tightly  closed,  I  decided  to  follow  the  advice  given 
me,  though  I  could  not  entirely  quiet  the  alarm  of 
my  fair  companion.  I  had  seen  plenty  of  Kabyles 
and  liked  them  as  a  people  immensely.  Placing  a 
chair  by  my  window,  which  was  only  four  feet  from 
the  ground,  I  hung  my  clothing  upon  it,  with  my 
purse  and  watch  in  their  usual  places  ;  and  then, 
with  window  and  door  wide  open,  passed  into  a 
sweet  and  refreshing  sleep  which  lasted  for  eight 
hours. 

You  can  do  this  in  Africa,  mind,  where  the  native 
is  called  savage  or  half-civilized.  But  not  in  England 
or  the  United  States,  in  any  section  of  them  with 
which  I  am  acquainted. 

Miss  Brixton  confessed,  when  we  met  at  break- 
fast, that  she  also  slept  fairly  well.  She  did  not 
intend  to  close  her  eyes  at  all,  so  disturbed  was  her 
mind  at  the  situation,  but  slumber  came  of  its  own 
accord.  Gustave,  who  had  lain  on  doormats  before 
that  night,  looked  completely  refreshed,  and  all  of 
as  were  ready  to  take  the  train  for  Constantine  when 
it  arrived. 

There  are  few  places  so  well  designed  by  nature 
for  a  fortress  as  this  same  city  of  Constantine.  It  is 
an  inland  Gibraltar,  reached  by  an  artificial  bridge, 
situated  on  a  series  of  rocks,  and  surrounded  by  a 
very  deep  ravine.  Though  there  are  few  things  of 
great  moment  to  the  sight-seer,  other  than  the  place 


238  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

itself,  it  is  well  worth  visiting  and  remaining  at  for 
several  days,  if  not  more.  As  we  approached  the 
city  I  began  to  discuss  its  points  of  interest  with  Miss 
Brixton. 

"  You  have  been  here,  I  believe  ?"  I  said. 

She  nodded  assent. 

"  At  what  hotel  shall  you  stay  ?" 

"The  Hotel  de  Paris.  Gustave  has  arranged  for 
rooms.  I  suppose  you  wish  to  remain  with  the 
party." 

I  said  it  was  immaterial,  and  that  I  would  do  as 
she  desired.  I  then  inquired  with  a  slight  vein  of 
irony  whether  my  services  were  likely  to  be  wanted. 

"  Don't  annihilate  me  with  sarcasm  if  I  am  obliged 
to  make  my  usual  reply,"  she  answered.  "At  any 
moment,  your  presence  may  be  of  the  first  import- 
ance. To-morrow  you  will  be  free.  After  that,  if 
you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  consult  with  me  each 
evening — " 

I  bowed  to  show  that  the  arrangement  was  entirely 
agreeable,  and  the  subject  was  dropped  for  the 
present. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Brixton  ordered  a  carriage 
early  and,  with  Gustave  and  her  maid,  drove  away, 
saying  she  expected  to  be  back  to  lunch.  It  would 
have  been  an  easy  matter  to  follow  her,  but  I  saw 
no  reason  to  play  the  spy  at  this  time.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  getting  tired  of  the  entire  matter  and 
would  have  felt  relieved  had  she  told  me  she  was 
about  to  return  to  Europe  or  America.  I  had  stirred 
up  a  hornet's  nest,  as  the  saying  is,  by  some  innocent 
letters  written  to  her  from  Paris.  I  deserved,  very 
likely,  the  punishment  I  was  receiving  and  should 
bear  it  like  a  respectable  martyr. 


"  THE    PRIEST   TOLD   YOU  ?"  239 

But  at  noon,  when  Miss  Brixton  returned  to  the 
hotel,  she  was  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  nervousness. 
Her  maid  came  to  inform  me,  while  I  was  waiting 
for  lunch,  that  her  mistress  was  actually  ill  and  that 
a  physician  had  been  summoned.  I  asked  the  girl 
what  had  caused  the  relapse,  and  she  said  she  did 
not  know.  Where  had  they  been  ?  To  the  mairie. 
Miss  Brixton,  with  Gustave,  had  gone  inside  to  see 
Ihe  mayor,  while  Mathilde  remained  in  the  ante- 
room. Suddenly  she  heard  voices,  one  of  which  she 
recognized  as  Miss  Brixton's,  raised  in  earnest  argu- 
ment. She  caught  but  a  few  words,  "  No,  no  !  I 
will  not  believe  it !  That  cannot  be  the  law  !"  and 
similar  utterances.  When  her  mistress  came  out  she 
was  weeping  and  so  weak  that  she  had  to  be  sup- 
ported to  her  carriage.  She  knew  no  more. 

These  facts,  it  may  readily  be  conceived,  I  drew 
out  of  the  girl  by  the  promise  of  a  sufficient  number 
of  francs,  which  I  promptly  paid  as  soon  as  she  fin- 
ished. I  saw  the  doctor  who  was  called  to  attend 
my  compatriot,  who  advised  me  that  his  patient 
was  in  a  very  nervous  state  and  must  not  be  unnec- 
essarily disturbed.  Gustave  met  me  several  times  in 
the  course  of  the  next  two  hours,  but  as  he  volun- 
teered no  information,  I  was  no  wiser.  I  would  not 
have  propounded  a  single  question  to  him  to  save 
his  neck. 

I  put  the  words  reported  by  the  French  maid,  to- 
gether with  all  I  knew  or  suspected,  into  one  lump, 
and  they  explained  nothing. 

The  mairie?  What  had  happened  at  the  mairie? 
Over  and  over  I  asked  myself  this,  and  received  no 
response.  Then,  all  at  once,  the  words  spoken  by 


240  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

Maurice  Fantelli  to  Miss  Brixton  on  the  hill  at  Bou- 
logne-sur-Mer,  came  to  me. 

"  It  was  no  priest ;  in  that  you  are  right  ;  but  the 
mayor  of  the  place,  which  is  according  to  our  cus- 
tom. He  is  there  still,  I  presume  ;  you  could  go  and 
see  him  !" 

There  was  no  doubt  that  the  mayor  of  Constan- 
tine  was  the  individual  referred  to  in  this  ambigu- 
ous manner.  That  functionary  knew  more  about 
the  Brixton  secret  than  I  did.  Gustave  had  been 
sent  to  him,  and  having  returned  to  Algiers,  Miss 
Brixton  had  decided  to  go  for  a  personal  interview. 
She  had  seen  him,  with  the  result  that  she  was  now 
prostrated  on  a  bed  of  illness.  And  during  the  time 
she  was  in  his  office  she  had  been  heard  to  utter  : 
"  No,  no  !  I  will  not  believe  it  !  That  cannot  be 
the  law  !H 

Feeling  justified  in  probing  this  affair  to  the  bot- 
tom, at  this  stage  I  took  a  walk  without  delay  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  and  asked  for  the  mayor.  Unfor- 
tunately, the  attendant  replied,  his  Excellency  had 
taken  the  train  shortly  before  for  some  point  in  the 
interior.  He  would  be  back  in  a  day  or  two ; 
exactly  when,  he  could  not  say. 

It  was  very  exasperating.  I  had  been  within 
sight  of  the  information  I  sought,  and  had  stood 
supinely  waiting  until  just  too  late  to  find  it  out. 

Miss  Brixton  was  still  ill  that  night,  but  she  sent 
for  me,  and  I  was  asked  to  step  into  the  chamber 
where  she  lay.  When  we  were  alone  she  turned 
toward  me  a  pair  of  swollen  eyes  and  looked  so 
pitiful  that  I  could  not  help  sympathizing  with  her 
deeply. 

**  My  friend,"  she  said,  "  I  have  heard  distressing 


-TlllS  FK1KST  TOLD  YOU  V  841 

news.  I  have  hopes  that  things  are  not  as  bad  as 
they  have  been  represented,  but  until  I  am  sure  I 
cannot  help  being  troubled.  In  the  morning  I  shall 
see  one  of  the  most  eminent  solicitors  in  the  prov- 
ince. If  he  endorses  what  I  have  been  told,  I  shall 
start  immediately  for  Europe,  whether  the  doctors 
call  me  sick  or  well.'* 

She  paused,  and  I  remained  silent,  there  beinf 
nothing,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  for  me  to  say. 

"  You  still  wonder  that  I  do  not  confide  in  you," 
she  cried.  *'I  am  afraid  1  cannot  much  longer 
refrain  from  doing  so." 

"If  you  had  chosen  that  course  earlier,  Miss  Brix- 
ton,  it  would  have  been  better,"  I  replied.  "  At 
present  your  attitude  keeps  me  from  discussing  with 
you  some  discoveries  of  my  own." 

She  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked  at  me 
earnestly. 

'*  Discoveries  !"  she  repeated. 

"  Yes.  They  amount  to  nothing  without  the  key 
which  you  so  persistently  hide  ;  but  combined  with 
what  you  yourself  learn  they  might  be  of  value.'* 

The  girl  let  her  head  fall  again  on  the  pillow. 

"You  see  how  ill  I  am,  and  yet  you  tell  me  this  !** 
she  said.  **  What  have  you  learned  ?  I  beg  you, 
conceal  nothing." 

I  remarked  that  the  doctor  had  left  word  that  she 
must  not  be  excited. 

"  Ah  !*  she  cried.  "  What  can  excite  me  more  than 
these  horrible  possibilities,  worse  even  than  the 
knowledge  that  they  were  true  !  It  is  uncertainty 
that  gives  the  keenest  pang.  You  have  heard 
•omething  here  ?" 

"  Not  here/'  I  replied.    "  At  Algiers." 


242  OUT  OP  WEDLOCK. 

She  looked  relieved. 

"  Oh,  at  Algiers  !"  she  repeated. 

"At  La  Trappe,"  I  explained,  laconically. 

She  regarded  me  with  a  vacant  expression. 

"You  went  to  La  Trappe  once  with  a  gentleman," 
I  said.  "  One  of  the  holy  fathers  took  you  into  the 
chapel,  where  he  began  to  hold  a  service.  Suddenly 
he  ceased  to  speak  the  words  of  his  text,  and  appear- 
ing angry,  addressed  such  language  to  your  escort 
that  he  left  the  place  precipitately  with  you.  Do 
you  remember  that  ?" 

Miss  Brixton  stretched  her  arms  above  her  head  in 
a  disappointed  way. 

"  Is  that  your  discovery  ?"  she  asked.  "  Why,  I 
would  have  told  it  to  you  and  welcome.  Perhaps 
you  learned  what  we  had  done  to  enrage  the  monk." 

"  I  did,"  was  my  response. 

"What  was  it?"  she  asked,  curiously. 

"  He  found  he  had  been  within  an  ace  of  marry- 
ing you." 

It  is  a  part  of  Miss  Brixton's  nature  to  be  strong- 
est when  under  the  severest  trial.  Many  women 
would  have  fainted  at  this  moment,  for  it  was  appar- 
ent that  my  statement  was  her  first  intimation  of 
the  truth.  Instead  of  swooning,  she  sat  almost  up- 
right in  bed,  and  spoke  in  the  calmest  tone. 

"Are  you  certain  of  this  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  The  priest  told  you  he  was  repeating  a  marriage 
service  ?" 

"  He  did." 

"  How  came  he  to  speak  of  it  ?'* 

"Because  I  asked  him." 

Her  expression  grew  more  puzzled  than  before. 


''THE  PRIEST  TOLD  YOU?"  243 

"I  don't  understand,"  she  said.  "If  you  asked 
him,  you  must  have  heard  of  it  before.  How  could 
that  be  ?" 

"A  gentleman  who  was  present  in  the  chapel  at 
the  time  told  me,"  I  explained. 

«  A  gen-" 

Agitation  the  most  extreme  showed  in  my  com- 
panion's face. 

"When  did  he  tell  you  ?"  she  demanded,  almost 
imperiously. 

"The  day  before  we  left  Algiers,"  I  answered, 
calmly. 

With  a  movement  that  was  wholly  maternal,  Miss 
Brixton's  hand  swept  across  the  counterpane  until  it 
rested  on  the  cot  where  her  child  lay,  close  to  her 
own  bed.  When  her  eyes  met  mine  again  they  were 
fixed  and  strange. 

"I  do  not  see  why  you  should  excite  yourself,'* 
said  I.  "The  attempt  to  make  you  his  wife  would 
not  have  been  binding  on  French  territory,  unless 
supplemented  by  a  civil  contract." 

She  bowed  absently  and  closed  her  eyes  as  if  in 
pain. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  reaching  a  hand  toward 
me  that  wandered  like  that  of  a  sleep-walker. 

I  took  the  sudden  dismissal  without  comment, 
more  in  doubt  than  ever  as  to  the  cause  of  these 
peculiar  manifestations. 

The  next  morning  I  was  informed  that  made- 
moiselle was  rather  better,  and  I  took  a  carriage  ride 
into  the  country  to  pass  the  time  away  till  noon. 

When  I  returned  I  was  given  a  letter,  containing 
the  startling  information  that  Miss  Brixton  with  her 


244  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

courier  and  maid   had  taken  the   train  to  Phillippe- 
ville  an  hour  before  ! 

"  I  could  not  help  it — there  was  no  alternative— meet  me 
in  New  York.  BLANCHE." 

That  was  the  extent  of  the  epistle. 

And,  as  if  this  was  not  enough  to  destroy  my 
equanimity,  a  card  was  brought  me  while  I  read  the 
letter,  and  on  it  were  the  names  and  titles  of  LOUIS 
DESMOULINS  ! 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

A   GREAT   CLUE   EXPLODED. 

Why  had  Miss  Brixton  gone  to  Phillippeville  ? 
Undoubtedly  to  catch  the  evening  steamer  for 
France.  Why  had  she  fled  in  this  precipitate  man- 
ner ?  Evidently  on  account  of  learning  the  prox- 
imity of  the  man  she  feared. 

While  not  flattered  at  her  desertion  after  my 
devoted  attachment  to  her  fortunes,  I  could  not  help 
admitting  that  she  was  in  a  measure  justified  in  her 
action.  She  had  taken  the  quickest  means  to  escape 
a  meeting  which  she  hated  above  all  things.  Phil- 
lippeville is  but  four  hours'  ride  from  Constantine, 
and  the  nearest  port  by  which  she  could  leave  the 
country.  There  are  times  when  one  cannot  spend 
many  minutes  in  consideration.  Miss  Brixton  had 
packed  her  things  and  embarked  with  her  maid 
and  courier  because  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 


A    GREAT   CLUE    EXPLODED.  24:5 

"TeH  M.  Desmoulins  that  I  will  see  him  here," 
was  my  reply  to  the  garfon  who  brought  the  card. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  admitted  to  my  petit  salon  a 
Frenchman  of  about  forty  years  of  age  ;  of  medium 
height  and  a  most  courtly  manner  ;  sallow,  as  if 
from  a  long  residence  under  tropical  suns  ;  pale,  as 
might  be  expected  from  the  wound  he  had  received  ; 
weak,  like  one  whose  vitality  is  being  slowly  but 
surely  sapped. 

"  M.  Medford  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  low  bow. 

I  acknowledged  the  intimation  and  pronounced 
his  name  in  return,  referring  to  his  card,  which  I 
still  held  in  my  hand. 

"  Will  you  be  seated  ?"  I  added,  motioning  him  to 
a  chair,  which  he  graciously  accepted. 

For  a  moment  we  regarded  each  other  with 
apparently  equal  interest. 

"  I  did  not  expect  you  at  Constantine,"  I  ventured 
to  say. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  he  replied,  pleasantly  ;  "  but 
learning  that  you  had  left  Algiers  I  thought  it  as 
well  to  join  you  at  once.  I  judged  from  the  tenor 
of  your  despatch  that  your  business  was  of  a  press- 
ing nature." 

I  wanted  him  to  "  lead  "  as  much  as  possible. 

"  You  have  travelled  very  quickly,  to  go  so  soon 
from  Dijon  to  Algiers  and  reach  here  to-day,"  I 
remarked. 

"  I  made  a  much  briefer  journey,"  said  he.  "  When 
I  reached  Marseilles  I  telegraphed  to  Algiers  to  say 
that  I  was  coming,  and  the  reply  informed  me  that 
you  had  left  the  Hotel  de  1'Oasis  for  this  city.  Con- 
sequently I  took  the  steamer  and  came  via  Phillippe- 
ville." 


246  OUT  or  WEDLOCK. 

I  said  he  was  very  kind  to  respond  with  so  little 
delay. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  been  filled 
with  a  lively  curiosity  on  your  account.  I  heard 
several  months  ago  that  a  gentleman  of  your  name 
was  making  inquiries  for  me,  and  when  your  interest 
took  the  shape  of  telegrams  that  summoned  me  to 
Algeria  I  could  wait  no  longer." 

I  looked  at  him  intently,  and  saw  nothing  in  his 
countenance  which  indicated  anything  but  perfect 
ingenuousness. 

"  Shall  I  understand,"  I  asked,  "  that  you  have  no 
idea  what  I  want  of  you  ?" 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  mean  to  convey,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause,  for  it  was  now 
evident  that  I  must  take  the  initiative. 

"  Then,  monsieur,"  I  said,  "  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
take  you  back  to  an  experience  that  must  prove 
unpleasant  to  your  memory.  Will  you  give  me  leave 
to  be  perfectly  frank  ?" 

He  looked  surprised,  but  replied  Uhfet  he  hoped  I, 
would  be  completely  so. 

"Nearly  three  years  ago,"  I  began,  "you  were 
wounded  by  a  pistol-bullet." 

He  bowed,  flushing  slightly. 

"  Shall  I  go  on  ?" 

"By  all  means." 

"That  wound  was  caused  by  the  act  of  a  brother 
officer — " 

"  Yes." 

"Who  was  afterward  tried  and  punished  for  the 
offense." 

"All  of  which,"  interrupted  Monsieur  Desmoulins, 


A   GREAT  CLUE   EXPLODED.  247 

*  is  on  record  in  the  archives  of  the  African  branch 
of  the  War  Department." 

I  agreed  to  this  with  a  nod. 

"  But  the  cause  of  your  brother  officer's  act — the 
reason  that  induced  him  to  fire  the  shot — is  not  a 
matter  of  record,"  I  said,  impressively. 

"  True.  If  that  is  what  you  wish  to  ascertain  I 
shall  oblige  you  without  hesitation.  Though  it 
reflects  anything  but  credit  upon  myself,  I  am  glad 
to  relieve  my  friend  of  blame  in  a  matter  through 
which  he  has  suffered  so  deeply.  The  shot  was  richly 
deserved,  as  I  have  always  admitted.  I  was  intoxi- 
cated at  the  time,  or  the  provocation  never  could 
have  occurred.  His  reason  for  assaulting  me  was 
on  account  of — " 

"  An  insult  to  a  lady,"  I  broke  in. 

Rather  surprised,  M.  Desmoulins  admitted  that  my 
statement  was  correct. 

"  Which  lady,"  I  continued,  slowly,  "  you  doubtless 
expected  to  find  here  with  me  at  Constantine." 

At  this  Col.  Desmoulins  started  from  his  chair. 

44  Here  !  With  you  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  monsieur,  but  how  could  I  have  such  an 
expectation,  when  I  had  never  heard  your  name  in 
connection  with  hers,  in  the  remotest  way  ?" 

I  paused,  reflecting  how  likely  this  was  to  be  the 
correct  state  of  the  case. 

"  We  mean  to  be  frank  with  each  other,  I  believe," 
said  I. 

"On  my  part  there  is  certainly  the  fullest  intention 
of  being  so,"  he  replied. 

"And  you  did  not  know  that  Miss  Brixton  had 
been  here  ?" 


248  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

"I  assure  you,  no.  At  least,  not  during  the  past 
two  years." 

The  best  actor  in  the  Comddic  Fran$aisc  could  not 
have  looked  as  he  did  while  telling  a  falsehood. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  then,"  I  said, "  that  she  has  been 
here  with  me.  And  that  it  is  but  an  hour  or  two 
since  she  departed." 

He  drew  a  long  breath  that  seemed  to  indicate 
relief. 

"  How  does  it  happen,"  he  asked,  "  that  you  did 
not  accompany  her  ?" 

"I  did  not  know  she  was  going.  I  presume  she 
heard  of  your  arrival  during  my  morning  absence 
and  acted  without  delay." 

The  Frenchman  quivered  a  little  about  th«. 
shoulders,  as  if  he  did  not  relish  my  expressions. 

"That  seems  incredible,"  he  answered.  "  I  would 
not  have  hurt  her,  poor  girl !  It  is  very  unfortunate, 
if  true.  She  did  not  know,  then,  that  you  had  tele^ 
graphed  to  Dijon  for  me  ?" 

"  By  no  means,"  I  said.  "  Later,  when  I  explain 
everything,  you  will  understand  why." 

"  It  is  very  mysterious,"  he  remarked.  "  If  I  had 
gone  to  Algiers,  it  appears,  in  response  to  your 
earnest  request,  I  should  not  have  found  you  there." 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  thought  of  the  matter 
in  that  light.  We  had  left  so  suddenly  that  the 
telegram  to  M.  Desmoulins  had  for  the  time  escaped 
my  thought!  altogether. 

"I  left  Algiers  in  great  haste,"  was  my  reply.  "  I 
expected  to  return  shortly,  and  having  written  for 
tidings  of  you  several  times  I  presumed  you  would 
be  a  week  or  more  in  coming,  if  indeed  you  came  at 


A   GREAT   CLUB   EXPLODED.  249 

all.  My  main  object,  however,  was  to  get  you  away 
from  Dijon." 

M.  Desmoulins  stared  at  me,  and  remarked  with 
great  coolness  that  I  was  speaking  in  riddles. 

"  I  will  be  plain  on  at  least  one  point,"  I  answered. 
"  The  evening  I  sent  you  that  despatch  a  gentleman 
left  Algiers  for  Dijon  with  the  apparent  intention  of 
inflicting  upon  you  a  serious  injury." 

There  was  a  sarcastic  curl  to  the  Frenchman's  lip, 
his  amour propre  touched  by  the  insinuation. 

"  You  have  hardly  made  the  point  plain  yet,"  he 
remarked,  icily. 

"  I  will  do  so,"  I  answered.  "  The  gentleman's 
name  was  Martine.  Do  you  understand  now?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  replied,  promptly. 

I  confessed  myself  much  puzzled  by  this  answer. 

*'M.  Martine  had  a  friend — an  intimate  friend,** 
said  I,  "  who  had  a  violent  attachment  for  Miss 
Brixton.  Having  learned  of  your  intimate  relations 
with  that  lady — " 

Col.  Desmoulins  uttered  a  loud  exclamation. 

"  My  relations — with — with  Miss  Brixton  !**  he 
cried. 

«« Exactly." 

"  What  relations  ?"  he  inquired,  testily.  *'  Mon- 
sieur, I  am  getting  out  of  patience  !" 

"  The  relations,"  I  said,  sharply,  "  that  made  you 
the  father  of  her  child  !" 

For  a  moment  the  Frenchman  eyed  me  with  an 
expression  that  I  could  not  fathom. 

"Are  you  sane?"  he  asked,  "or  some  madman 
escaped  from  confinement  ?" 

"Apparently  in  the  possession  of  my  senses,"  I 
said,  boldly.  "I  am  executor  of  the  Brixton  estate 


250  OTJT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

and  have  the  best  of  reasons  for  the  interest  I  take 
in  this  matter.  Your  manner  is  a  strange  one,  after 
the  pains  I  have  taken  to  warn  you  of  your  danger." 

The  next  sentence  uttered  by  M,  Desmoulins  was 
so  mixed  with  profanity  that  I  fear  to  use  it  in  this 
narrative.  All  his  polite  demeanor  vanished.  He 
informed  me  roughly  that  he  was  afraid  of  nothing 
that  walked  the  earth  or  traversed  the  air  ;  if  some- 
one had  gone  to  Dijon  to  call  him  to  account  for 
anything,  I  had  done  a  great  wrong  to  put  him 
in  the  position  of  a  fleeing  coward.  As  to  the  lady 
whose  name  I  had  used,  his  only  connection  with 
her  was  on  the  unfortunate  occasion  which  M.  Fan- 
telli  had  promptly  avenged.  He  had  never  met  her 
before  or  since  that  day.  If  she  had  become  an  un- 
wedded  mother — which  he  would  have  sworn  impos- 
sible on  any  other  evidence  than  mine — he  could 
easily  guess  her  child's  paternity,  though  wild  horses 
should  not  drag  his  suspicions  out  of  him. 

And  he  rattled  on  at  this  rate  for  at  least  five 
minutes,  until  he  was  so  exhausted  by  his  efforts 
that  he  could  proceed  no  farther. 

Somewhat  abashed  by  the  failure  of  my  great  dis- 
covery I  begged  the  officer's  pardon  for  my  mistake. 
Then  I  told  him  the  history  of  the  Brixton  family, 
the  strange  ideas  advanced  by  the  daughter  and 
what  facts  I  knew  concerning  the  birth  of  her  son. 
He  grew  calmer  as  I  proceeded,  and  listened  with 
the  deepest  interest,  uttering  many  "  Ah's "  and 

«  oh*s  r 

"I  give  you  my  word  as  an  officer  and  a  gentle- 
man," he  said,  when  I  had  concluded,  "  that  I  never 
spoke  a  syllable  to  Miss  Brixton  but  once,  and  that  I 
never  saw  her  alone.  What  I  did  was  to  use  lan« 


A   GREAT  CLUE   EXPLODED.  251 

guage  for  which  I  am  mortally  ashamed,  while  under 
the  influence  of  strong  liquor,  to  which  I  am  unac- 
customed. M.  Fantelli,  acting  under  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  drew  a  revolver  and  shot  me,  precisely 
as  he  ought  to  have  done.  If  I  had  been  killed  I 
should  have  received  only  my  just  deserts.  As  it 
was,  my  life  was  cut  short — the  doctors  tell  me 
another  year  is  all  I  can  count  on  with  certainty, 
You  see,  I  extenuate  nothing.  I  have  succeeded  in 
freeing  poor  Maurice,  and  now  I  await  the  execution 
of  my  own  sentence." 

The  suavity,  the  gentleness,  the  politeness  of  the 
Frenchman  had  returned  with  full  force.  I  have 
never  seen  such  perfect  combination  of  courtesy, 
bravery  and  manhood. 

"  Why  did  you  lay  this  sin  at  my  door?"  he  asked, 
after  a  pause. 

"  On  account  of  a  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence 
that  seemed  sufficient,"  I  replied,  in  a  discouraged 
tone.  "  I  saw  M.  Fantelli  while  he  was  undergoing  his 
imprisonment  at  Algiers.  Although  we  exchanged 
but  one  glance  he  knew  that  I  sympathized  with  him 
After  his  release  we  met  accidentally  and  travelled, 
together.  He  told  me  he  was  convicted  of  assault- 
ing a  brother  officer  with  intent  to  kill.  He  said  the 
cause  was  an  insult  to  a  lady  so  gross,  that  it  set  his 
blood  on  fire.  Then  he  related  how  the  injured  man 
had  labored  to  save  him  and  had  finally  obtained  his 
release.  I  easily  recognized  Miss  Brixton  as  the 
probable  heroine  of  this  tale  and  informed  M.  Fantelli 
that  I  intended  to  return  to  Algiers  and  ascertain 
your  identiiy.  To  this  he  answered  quietly  that  he 
would  save  me  that  trouble,  giving  me  your  name 
and  address.  After  obtaining  it  I  told  him  my  sus* 


252  OUT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

picion  that  you  were  Wallace  Brixton's  father.  He 
replied,  'Absurd '/'  but  did  not  convince  me. 

"In  writing  to  Miss  Brixton,  who  was  then  in 
America,  I  told  her  what  I  had  learned,  though  not 
all  I  guessed.  In  doing  this  I  alluded  to  M.  Fan- 
telli  as  my  informant.  As  soon  as  she  could  reach 
me — I  was  at  Boulogne-sur-Mer — she  came.  I  found 
her  much  excited.  She  asked  me  again  and  again 
to  repeat  what  I  had  heard.  When  I  reached  my 
conclusion  tha.ty0u  were  her  child's  father,  she  only 
cried  '  Oh  /'  and  had  difficulty  in  restraining  her 
tears.  Within  a  short  time  I  found  that  she  was 
holding  interviews  with  Maurice.  Afterward  she 
begged  me  to  accompany  her  back  to  Algeria,  seem- 
ing to  carry  with  her  a  most  portentous  secret. 
Everything  continued  to  point  to  you,  as  far  as  I 
could  see.  Miss  Brixton  and  myself  were  pursuing 
our  investigations  separately,  and  I  was  kept  in  the 
dark  completely  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  The 
climax  came  this  noon,  when  in  one  moment  there 
was  placed  in  my  hands  a  letter  stating  that  she  had 
fled  the  country  and  a  card  containing  your  name. 
What  could  I  think  but  that  the  knowledge  of  your 
arrival  had  caused  her  flight  ?" 

M.  Desmoulins  bowed  abstractedly. 

alt  was  a  strange  combination,"  he  said.  "  You 
started  with  a  wrong  premise,  and  each  step  you 
took  was  consequently  erroneous.  But  who  is  this 
fellow  whose  friend  is  to  fight  or  assassinate  me? 
I  never  heard  of  a  man  of  his  description.  Was  it — 
was  it  on  account  of  what  you  said,  that  he  started 
so  indignantly  for  France  ?" 

I  had  to  admit  with  a  blush,  that  it  was.     I  told 


A   WffiAT   CLUE    EXPLODED. 

•my  new  acquaintance  of  the  incident  of  La  Trappy 
repeating  the  conversation  as  it  occurred. 

"This  grows  clearer,"  he  remarked,  when  I  had 
finished,  though  I  was  obliged  to  admit  that  it  did 
not  to  me.  "Now,  will  you  kindly  give  me  a  writ- 
ten statement,  that  you  were  mistaken  in  your  reflec- 
tions-upon  me,  that  I  may  show  it  to  this  Unknown  if 
he  ever  turns  up.  He  is  undoubtedly  a  gentleman 
and  not  an  assassin,"  he  explained,  "and  intends  to 
challenge  me  to  a  duel.  I  am  a  pretty  good  shot 
yet,  even  if  my  arm  is  a  trifle  weak,  and  should  not 
like  to  kill  a  fellow-countryman  for  nothing.  After 
I  show  him  your  letter,  if  he  rushes  to  his  fate  it 
will  be  his  own  fault." 

I  said  1  would  write  the  letter  at  once,  and  sat 
down  at  my  desk  to  do  so. 

"  If  you  could  let  any  of  that  light  which  you  sec 
into  my  head,"  I  remarked  next,  *'  it  would  be  a  gen- 
uine favor." 

"But — I  cannot,**  he  replied,  gently.  "  I  suppose 
I  know  who  is  the  father  of  that  child,  but  I  have  no 
right  even  to  breathe  my  suspicion." 

"  Is  he  still  alive?"  I  asked,  interrogatively. 

«  Oh,  yes  !" 

"  But  she  thought  he  was  dead.*' 

"I  can  understand  how  that  was,"  he  answered. 

Our  talk  lasted  for  an  hour  longer,  but  nothing 
that  unravelled  the  tangled  skein  was  developed. 
M.  Desmoulins  said  he  should  remain  in  Kabylia  for 
some  time,  as  the  climate  was  very  suitable  to  his 
health. 

Before  I  retired  that  night,  I  heard  some  gentle- 
men in  the  reading-room,  talking  about  the  steamer 
from  Phillippeville  to  Marseilles.  A  telegram  had  been 


254  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

received,  saying  it  would  lie  over  in  port  another 
day  for  some  necessary  repairs.  Anyone  who 
wished  to  take  passage  on  it  could  easily  make  con- 
nections by  either  of  the  morning  trains. 

I  was  rather  pleased  to  learn  this.  Having  been 
left  in  the  lurch  by  Miss  Brixton,  it  would  be  to  a 
certain  extent  gratifying  to  overtake  her  so  quickly. 
Besides,  I  could  now  assure  her  that  M.  Desmoulins 
had  no  intention  of  annoying  her,  which  must  be 
pleasant  news.  More  than  this,  it  would  be  much 
more  agreeable  to  travel  back  to  Europe  or  the  United 
States  with  a  party  of  people  I  knew  than  alone. 

The  severe  set-back  I  had  received  within  the  past 
few  hours  convinced  me  that  as  an  amateur  detective 
I  was  far  from  being  a  shining  success.  If  Miss 
Brixton  wished  to  keep  her  secret  she  might  do  so 
thereafter,  for  all  of  me.  When  Master  Wallace, 
some  years  later,  should  demand  the  name  of  his 
ptre  I  would  tell  him  to  wander  over  one  or  two 
continents  and  find  him,  if  he  could. 

**  Good-bye,"  said  M.  Desmoulins,  the  next  morn- 
ing, as  I  took  the  carriage  for  the  station.  "  I  am 
glad  to  have  met  you.  It  is  a  good  thing  you 
brought  me  to  Kabylia  at  this  season.  We  are  not 
likely  to  meet  again  ;  and  so,  adieu  !*' 

We  never  did  meet  again.  He  died  a  few  weeks 
later  at  Setif,  expiating  heroically  the  offense  he  had 
committed  in  a  drunken  folly,  admitting  to  the  end 
that  he  had  deserved  his  punishment ! 

Miss  Brixton  responded  to  my  call  at  her  room  in 
the  Phillippeville  hotel,  looking  like  a  hunted  animal 
that  fears  its  fate. 

"You  have  not  come   to  detain  me  I"  she  cried 


**  HE   IS    HEE   HUSBAND."  255 

"No,  no!  I  want  nothing  now  but  to  get  home 
again  !" 

"  My  child,"  I  said,  for  at  that  minute  she  seemed 
to  me  the  little  girl  at  her  father's  that  played  with 
dolls  ;  "  we  will  go  together." 

Passage  was  engaged  on  the  steamer  for  myself 
with  the  others,  but  before  she  sailed  a  new  compli- 
cation had  ruffled  the  surface  of  our  perplexed 
affairs. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

UHE      IS      HER      HUSBAND." 

While  taking  an  afternoon  walk,  I  came  upon 
Maurice  Fantelli  in  the  Rue  Nationale. 

The  surprise  was  evidently  mutual. 

"I  thought  you  were  at  Constantine  I"  was  the 
immediate  exclamation  of  the  Frenchman. 

"  You  were  better  informed  of  my  movements  than 
I  of  yours,"  I  answered.  "  I  left  Constantine  this 
very  morning." 

"  You  are  going  on  the  steamer  to-night,  are  you  ?" 
asked  Maurice. 

"That  is  my  intention." 

"To  leave  Africa  for  good  !" 

"Yes.  I  shall  return  to  America.  There  are 
matters  of  business  there  which  require  my  atten- 
tion. But  who  told  you  I  was  in  this  part  of  the 
world  ?" 

"  A  gentleman  you  met  in  Algiers." 


256  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

«  Ah  !     M.  Martine  !" 

"  Yes,  M.  Martine,"  replied  Maurice,  eyeing  me 
strangely. 

"  I  left  Monsieur  in  an  excited  state,"  I  remarked. 
"  I  wonder  if  you  can  tell  me  what  ailed  him  ?" 

Maurice  nodded  gravely, 

"It  is  a  peculiar  story,"  he  said.  "If  you  can 
spare  the  time  to  walk  over  to  my  room,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  talk  it  over  with  you." 

I  saw  no  reason  to  refuse  this  invitation.  If  there 
was  any  late  information  about  my  hot-headed 
friend  I  should  be  glad  to  know  it.  Having  dis- 
posed of  M.  Desmoulins  I  was  anxious  to  learn  what 
had  become  of  his  enemies. 

"Let  us  make  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  possi- 
ble," remarked  Maurice,  when  we  had  seated  our- 
selves  and  lit  some  very  fair  cigars.  "  I  believe  M. 
Martine  told  you  he  should  leave  Algiers  abruptly 
for  France  ?" 

I  replied  that  this  was  true. 

"For  Dijon,  I  think?"  continued  M.  Maurice. 

"  For  Dijon.  Or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  ac- 
curate to  say  that  he  purposed  going  to  see  a  friend 
who  would  probably  make  that  journey." 

M.  Fantelli  bowed  and  said,  "  Prtdscmcnt.  Well, 
M.  Martine — and  his  friend — went  to  Dijon,  about 
as  fast  as  the  regular  conveyances  could  carry  them  ; 
and  when  they  arrived  they  found — " 

**  That  M.  Desmoulins  was  absent,"  I  interrupted. 

"Just  so.  They  also  learned  that  his  absence  was 
caused  by  a  telegram  from  Algiers,  and  that  he  was 
supposed  to  have  gone  to  that  place." 

I  maintained  silence. 

**  Thev  discovered — this*M.  Martine  and  his  friend/* 


WHE   IS   HER    HUSBAND."  957 

continued  Maurice,  "  that  the  telegram  summoning 
M.  Marline  to  Algiers  was  signed  by  M.  Medford  ; 
they  also  learned,  for  they  took  their  bearings  care- 
fully, that  M.  Medford  had  left  Algiers  ;  that  M. 
Desmoulins  had  made  a  similar  discovery ;  and 
inally  that  both  these  gentlemen  were  at  Constan- 
tine  or  on  the  way  there.  Voila  /" 

Lost  in  admiration  of  the  excellent  detective  qual- 
ities of  these  individuals  I  inquired  how  they  had 
Obtained  possession  of  all  these  facts. 

"  By  a  free  use  of  electricity,"  said  Maurice.  "  A 
telegram  to  Algiers  and  its  answer  proved  that  you 
had  left  there  ;  another  to  Marseilles  showed  that 
M.  Desmoulins  had  taken  passage  on  a  steamer  for 
Phillippeville  ;  another,  sent  yesterday,  to  Constan- 
tine,  showed  that  you  were  both  at  the  Hotel  de 
Paris.  Could  anything  be  more  simple  ?" 

Nothing  could,  I  was  obliged  to  acknowledge. 

"It  follows  from  your  statement,"  I  said,  "  that 
M.  Marline  and  his  friend  are  here." 

There  was  an  instant  of  hesitalion  on  ihe  part  of 
M.  Fanlelli. 

"  I  lei  that  out  unwillingly,"  he  said,  "  bul  il  can 
make  no  difference.  M.  Marline  and  his  friend  were 
here — naturally — when  he  sent  the  telegram  yesler- 
day.  At  ihe  presenl  moment  they  are  at  Constan- 
tine,  wilhoul  doubl,  interviewing  M.  Desmoulins  in 
relation  to  the  stalemenl  you  made  aboulliim." 

The  perspiralion  sprang  lo  my  forehead. 

"I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  I  made  thai  slate- 
ment  under  a  great  error,"  I  replied.  "  I  have  left 
a  writlen  explanation  to  that  effect  wilh  Col. 
Desmoulins.  You  will  remember,"  I  conlinued, 
"  that  I  believed  M.  Desmoulins  the  father  of  Miss 


258  OTJT  OF   WEDLOCK. 

Brixton's  child.  Until  my  interview  with  him  I  still 
held  that  opinion,  which  I  am  now  certain  is  errone- 
ous. When  I  told  M.  Marline  I  was  laboring  under 
that  delusion." 

Maurice  sprang  to  his  feet  and  uttered  a  cry. 

"  And  you  meant  that,  and  that  only,  by  what  you 
said  of  him  to  M.  Marline  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"That  and  thai  only,"  I  answered,  surprised  al  his 
demeanor. 

Wilhout  another  word  he  strode  at  a  quick  pace 
from  the  room,  leaving  me  for  several  minutes 
alone. 

"You  have  astonished  me  intensely,"  said  Mau- 
rice, when  he  returned.  "  Perhaps  your  explana- 
tion has  come  in  time  to  prevent  a  very  regretlable 
proceeding  ;  perhaps,  on  the  contrary,  it  lias  not.  I 
have  sent  a  message  to  M.  Marline  and  his  friend." 
He  took  out  his  watch  and  consulted  it  carefully. 
"  It  is  a  close  shave,"  he  continued,  "  but  we  will 
hope  for  the  uest." 

I  slared  slupidly  at  the  speaker. 

"There  could  not  have  been  much  harm  done,"  I 
stammered.  "They  would  have  read  my  written 
statement,  and  that  would  have  ended  the  mailer." 

"They  might  and  they  might  not,"  was  the  quiet 
reply.  "  When  a  gentleman  feels  that  all  his  finer 
sentimenls  have  been  oulraged — when  he  hears  lhat 
one  he  considered  his  true  friend  has  violated  all  the 
canons  of  amity — where,  in  short,  he  is  led  to  believe 
that  a  woman  dearer  to  him  than  life  itself  has  been 
degraded  for  the  second  time  by  a  certain  person — 
he  is  in  a  condition  of  mind  that  does  not  easily 
accept  explanations.  The  gentleman  of  whom  I 
speak  is  now — with  M.  Marline — in  the  city  of  Con- 


"HE   IS   HER   HUSBAND.7*  259 

stantine,  if  the  train  which  took  him  there  is  on  time. 
He  would  not  assassinate  M.  Desmoulins  in  cold 
blood,  but  he  might  give  him  such  provocation  that 
a  duel  could  not  be  averted." 

This  was  not  pleasant  to  hear,  to  say  the  least. 
The  murder,  for  I  could  call  it  no  less,  of  an  innocent 
man  might  be  the  result  of  my  too  hasty  jump  at  an 
unwarranted  conclusion.  I  was  in  a  very  nervous 
state,  and  the  recollection  that  Miss  Brixton  was  at 
the  moment  within  a  few  hundred  yards,  liable  to 
meet  some  of  these  people  and  learn  the  truth,  did 
not  add  to  my  serenity.  But  what  did  M.  Fantelli 
mean  by  his  wholly  mysterious  remark  about  the 
friend  of  M.  Martine  holding  that  lady  "dearer  to 
him  than  life  itself  !"  Who  could  this  Unknown  be 
that  had  conceived  such  a  violent  affection  for  Miss 
Brixton,  a  woman  whose  acquaintance  with  men  had 
been  of  the  most  limited  description  ? 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know,"  I  replied,  when  I  could 
get  breath, "  who  can  claim  such  a  deep  interest  in 
my  American  friend.  He  must  have  a  very  warm 
place  in  his  heart  for  her,  to  travel  hundreds  of  miles 
merely  for  the  sake  of  this  meeting," 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  Maurice  to  stare. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  understand,"  he  asked, 
slowly,  "  that  you  have  no  conception  whatever  as 
to  who  this  gentleman  is  ?" 

**  I  have  none,"  was  my  positive  answer. 

"Then,"  he  said,  "I  will  tell  you  ;  for  there  is  no 
longer  any  use  in  equivocation.  He  is  her  husband  I" 

*'  Her  husband  !  Whose  husband  ?"  I  asked  him, 
feeling  a  blindness  crossing  my  vision. 

"  The  husband  of  the  lady  you  call  '  Mees  Brees« 
ton  !'  " 


860  OUT  OF    WEDLOCK. 

I  heard  him  distinctly  enough,  but  the  words  did 
not  seem  to  have  any  definite  meaning.  I  had  never 
connected  the  word  "  husband  "  with  George  Brix- 
ton's  daughter,  and  I  could  not  do  so  now.  She 
who  hated  marriage,  who  had  denounced  it,  who 
had  challenged  the  contumely  of  the  whole  world  by 
her  contempt  of  it,  who  had  drunk  to  the  confusion 
of  all  wives,  who  had  upheld  the  standard  of  free 
and  independent  motherhood  !  Husband  ?  Blanche 
Brixton's  husband  !  It  could  not  be! 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken,  monsieur,"  I  managed 
to  articulate  at  last. 

" Afais,  non"  he  responded,  sharply,  and  there  is 
nothing  that  means  more  than  this  expression  thus 
uttered  by  a  French  tongue. 

Strange  thoughts  were  passing  through  my  brain. 
Poor  Blanche !  I  wished  I  had  never  mixed  in  her 
private  affairs.  I  wished  I  had  let  the  paternity 
of  her  boy  lie  in  the  darkness  where  she  wanted  it 
to  remain.  She  did  not  want  a  husband  ;  she  would 
blame  me  for  saddling  this  infliction. upon  her.  I 
had  brought  nothing  but  trouble  to  this  girl  whom 
I  would  have  done  anything  to  serve.  How  could  I 
help  her  escape  its  consequences  ? 

And  all  this  time  she  was  resting,  in  ignorance  of 
her  danger,  within  pistol-shot  of  the  parlor  in  which 
we  were  talking ! 

**I  cannot  dispute  you,"  I  said,  vacantly,  at  the 
same  time  rising  with  the  intention  of  reaching  my 
hotel  as  soon  as  possible.  "  I  repeat  that  I  was 
entirely  unaware  of  the  fact  you  state  and  that  I 
cannot  yet  comprehend  how  it  can  be  true.  Will 
you  give  me  any  further  enlightenment  T  I  added, 


*HX  IS   HER  HUSBAND."  961 

leaning  my  arm  on  the  back  of  a  heavy  chair  for  the 

support  I  was  beginning  to  need. 

He  bowed  politely. 

"  Ask  anything  you  wish,"  he  said. 

"When  and  where  did  this  marriage  take  place?" 

44  In  December,  three  years  ago,  at  the  mairie  of 
Constantine." 

The  mairie  ! 

"  Where  did  the  couple  go  then  ?'* 

"  To  the  fort  where  the  husband  was  undergoing 
confinement." 

I  began  to  wonder  if  I  was  not  dreaming,  after 
all. 

"  How  long  did  they  stay  there  ?** 

"  She  about  a  month,  he  several  days  longer,** 
replied  Fantelli,  like  a  well-informed  witness  at  some 
ordinary  investigation.  "  The  lady,  being  at  liberty, 
as  her  husband  was  not,  went  out  nearly  every  day 
into  the  city.  On  the  occasion  of  one  of  her  trips 
she  failed  to  return." 

It  was  growing  slightly  clearer,  but  there  were 
still  many  things  to  explain. 

"Can  you  account  for  her  desertion?"!  asked. 

"  One  does  not  account  for  the  actions  of  a 
woman,"  he  replied. 

"But  Miss  Brixton  certainly  told  her  friends,"  I 
remarked,  with  an  effort,  "  that  the  father  of  her 
child  was  dead  ;  that  he  died  a  long  time  before  tho 
boy's  birth  ;  and  that  the  cause  of  his  death  was  a 
bullet  wound." 

M.  Fantelli,  who  had  also  risen  and  was  standing 
near  me,  bowed  with  the  utmost  dignity. 

••  All  of  which."  he  said,  '*  she  had  reason  to  be 


262  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

lieve.    At   the   time   she   left   her  husband   he  was 
under  sentence  of  death." 

Ah  !  The  light  was  growing  a  little  stronger.  I 
could  almost  see  the  day-break  in  the  mist  that  had 
so  long  surrounded  this  matter. 

"That  sentence  must  have  been  the  reason  why 
she  married  him  at  all,"  I  said. 

"The  evidence  points  in  that  direction,"  was  the 
solemn  reply.  "  She  thought  he  had  but  a  few 
weeks  to  live.  It  was  not  a  husband  that  she 
wanted,  but  a  child.  I  can  comprehend  the  case 
perfectly." 

I  wanted  to  get  away.  I  was  anxious  to  reach 
Miss  Brixton — I  could  call  her  nothing  else — but  the 
fascination  of  this  story  chained  me  a  minute  longer 
to  the  room. 

"And  the  husband^he  suspected  nothing?"  I 
ventured. 

"  You  may  be  certain  of  that.  He  is  a  man  of  the 
highest  honor,  who  would  have  indignantly  repu- 
diated such  an  arrangement.  He  loved  your  coun- 
try-woman then,  as  he  does  to-day,  with  a  passionate 
devotion — the  first  and  last  love,  let  me  add,  that  he 
has  ever  felt.  The  thought  that  Desmoulins  had 
treated  her  wrongly  made  him  almost  insane, 
although  he  has  never  seen  her  since  her  sudden 
departure  and  does  not  expect  to  meet  her  again." 

I  caught  eagerly  at  this  straw.  If  Blanche's 
husband  was  content  to  leave  her  in  peace,  she 
•might  yet  escape  from  this  wretched  entanglement 
into  which  I  had  led  her,  and  never  know  the 
worst. 

"Another  question,"  I  said.  "If  this  gentleman 
was  '  possessed  of  the  highest  sense  of  honor '  how 


A   DAY    AT   CONDB   8MENDOTT. 

did  he  happen  to  be  under  a  death  sentence  ?     Had 
he  committed  no  crime  ?" 

"None  whatever,"  replied  Monsieur  Fantelli. 
"  His  innocence  was  afterward  fully  established, 
and  he  was  set  free  with  a  note  of  regret  and  full 
exoneration  from  the  department." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A   DAY   AT   CONDE  SMENDOU. 

Plainer  and  plainer  grew  the  horizon. 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  I  do  not  yet  understand," 
I  remarked.  "  If  his  love  for  Miss  Brixton — for  his 
wife — was  and  still  is  so  strong,  why  did  he  permit 
her  to  desert  him  without  protest  ?  Is  this  the  act 
of  a  man  who  loves  ?" 

"Exactly  that,"  replied  M.  Fantelli.  "He  had 
sought  her  by  every  honorable  means,  using  an  in- 
terpreter, for  he  could  not  speak  her  language,  nor 
she  his.  He  secured  her  hand  in  marriage  only 
when  it  appeared  to  him  that  his  days  were  num- 
bered. He  made  a  will,  leaving  her  all  the  estate  he 
possessed,  which  was  not  inconsiderable.  The  few 
weeks  he  passed  with  her  were  so  blissful  that 
he  almost  forgot  the  suspended  sword  that  hung 
above  his  head.  When  she  left  him  of  her  own  free 
will,  he  could  not  pursue  her.  Her  happiness  was 
more  to  him  than  his  own.  To  follow  her,  to  seek 
her  out  and  urge  his  love  again,  would  only  give  her 
annoyance.  He  sacrificed  himself  on  the  altar  of 


2(54  our  OF  WIDLOOI. 

his  affection.  No  lover  ever  made  a  nobler  resign- 
ment." 

The  dawn  was  quite  clear.  Miss  Brixton's  story 
was  explained  ;  all  but  her  denial  of  the  marriage  ; 
that  was  still  to  come. 

"But  now,"  pursued  M.  Fantelli,  u  matters  have 
assumed  a  different  aspect.  This  gentleman  has 
learned  that  he  is  a  father.  He  cannot  be  made  to 
believe  that  his  wife  seriously  wishes  to  go  on  bear- 
ing the  imputation  of  being  an  unwedded  mother. 
He  means  to  find  her  and  establish  his  son's  legit- 
imacy. He  will  not  force  himself  upon  his  wife — his 
self-abasement  is  complete.  He  only  wishes  to  serve 
her  and  his  boy.  When  their  interests  are  thoroughly 
protected,  he  will  retire  from  the  scene  and  trouble 
them  no  more.'* 

I  believed  him  completely.  I  determined  to  go  to 
Miss  Brixton  and  tell  her  all  I  had  learned.  It 
seemed  to  me  I  could  do  her  no  greater  service. 
Perhaps  now  she  would  share  her  secret  with  me, 
when  I  had  discovered  most  of  it  without  her  aid. 

"Au  revoir,  monsieur,"  I  stammered.  There  was 
no  use  in  attempting  a  more  elaborate  farewell. 

**  I  shall  see  you  again,  I  trust,"  he  said,  holding 
out  his  hand. 

Although  I  did  not  believe  he  ever  would,  I  acqui- 
esced in  his  suggestion,  and  a  minute  later  was  walk- 
ing rapidly  to  my  hotel.  A  garfon  met  me  at  the 
door. 

44 1  have  been  looking  everywhere  for  you,  mon- 
sieur,** he  exclaimed.  "  What  a  pity  you  were  not 
here  tvrenty  minutes  ago  t" 

*  And  why  ?" 

44  To  go  with  the  rest  of  your  party.     They  took 


A  DAT   AT  COKOE    SMEJCDOtT.  265 

the  Constantine  train,  after  waiting  tilt  the  latest 
second  for  you.     Here  is  a  letter.*' 

I  must  be  dreaming  again,  or  else  Miss  Brixton— 
I  could  not  call  her  madame,  even  in  my  thoughts—- 
had gone  daft.  To  Constantine,  when  the  boat  for 
Marseilles  would  set  sail  within  four  hours  !  What 
was  she  thinking  of  ! 

"I  have  discovered  here  the  presence  of  a  man  I 
most  dread  to  meet,"  she  wrote,  '*  and  see  no  way  of 
escape  but  to  take  the  railway,  via  Constantine,  to 
some  other  point  on  the  coast.  He  undoubtedly 
knows  I  am  booked  by  to-night's  steamer,  and  this 
will  throw  him  off  my  track.  I  shall  go  to  Bougie, 
if  I  can  ;  if  not,  straight  to  Algiers.  I  wish  to  get 
out  of  French  territory  as  speedily  as  possible,  and 
shall  aim  for  Italy  or  Spain.  I  still  hope  you  will 
return  to  the  hotel  in  time  to  go  with  us,  but  if  not, 
pray  believe  me  most  sorry  for  the  trouble  I  have 
caused  you.  As  soon  as  I  arrive  on  European  soil,  I 
will  telegraph  my  address  to  Baring  Bros.,  with  in- 
structions to  give  it  to  you  on  application.  I  long 
for  America  and  shall  waste  no  time  in  getting  there 
when  once  I  feel  safe." 

I  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  like  one  petrified.  She 
was  rushing  to  the  city  where  the  man  she  sought  to 
avoid  had  gone  before  her !  His  face  might  be  the 
first  one  she  encountered  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris. 
Could  anything  be  done  ? 

Turning  from  the  astonished  garden  I  ran  in  any- 
thing but  a  dignified  way  down  the  street  toward 
the  station.  I  knew  that  people  were  stopping  to 
look  at  me,  that  an  impression  was  abroad  that  I  was 
a  lunatic,  but  I  kept  on  till  I  arrived  at  my  destina- 
tion. Finding  the  chef  de  gare  I  demanded  if  there 


266  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

was  any  possibility  of  hiring  a  locomotive  and  catch- 
ing the  train  that  had  left  half  an  hour  previous. 

Satisfying  himself  after  awhile  that  I  was  sane, 
the  official  replied  that  such  a  proceeding  was 
unprecedented  ;  he  had  never  heard  of  pursuing  a 
train  in  the  manner  proposed  ;  would  it  not  be  as 
well  to  wait  until  the  next  morning  and  take  the 
regular  conveyance?  When  I  offered  to  pay  any 
price  he  would  name  for  the  accommodation  he  said 
there  was  no  schedule  of  rates  for  locomotives  used 
as  train  chasers  and  he  should  not  know  what  to 
charge  me.  In  short,  he  would  do  nothing  about  it 
whatever. 

I  was  perspiring  plentifully.  Was  there  anything 
else  left  ?  Yes — it  struck  me  with  a  joyful  sensa- 
tion— the  telegraph  ! 

I  wrote  a  message  to  "Miss  Brixton,  on  board 
train  for  Constantine,  at  Robertville,"  to  make  sure 
and  allow  for  delay,  that  place  being  twenty-nine 
miles  from  Piiillippeville.  I  told  her  to  alight  at  the 
first  station  where  the  guard  said  there  was  a  half- 
decent  hotel  ;  to  remain  there  in  the  utmost  seclusion 
till  I  arrived  the  next  morning  ;  and  to  telegraph  me 
as  soon  as  possible  what  town  she  had  selected. 

"The  man  you  dread  to  meet  has  gone  to  Con- 
stantine before  you,"  I  added,,  in  explanation.  "  To 
prove  that  I  know  this  let  me  tell  you  who  he  is — 
your  husband." 

The  answer  came  in  due  time,  to  my  delight.  She 
would  alight  at  Conde  Smendou. 

So  far,  so  good.  I  was  sufficiently  relieved  to 
make  a  toilet  and  go  down  to  dinner.  I  ate  heartily 
and  arose  much  refreshed  from  the  table.  Having 
nothing  else  to  do,  as  there  was  «o  other  train  till 


A    DAT    AT   OONDE   SMENDOU.  267 

morning,  I  went  down  to  the  quay  and  watched  th« 
departure  of  the  Marseilles  steamer.  As  I  was  turn- 
ing back  toward  the  town  Maurice  Fantelli  came  up 
and  addressed  me. 

"  You  did  not  sail,  then  ?"  he  remarked,  with  a 
tone  of  slight  surprise. 

"  No.  I  have  been  detained  on  a  matter  of 
business.  I  may  have  to  return  to  Constantine." 

"Indeed  !  I  hope  it  will  be  by  the  morning  train, 
then,"  he  answered,  "as  I  have  decided  to  take  it 
myself." 

My  ease  vanished  quickly.  If  there  was  anything 
I  did  not  want  it  was  to  have  him  see  me  on  that 
train. 

There  was  nothing  to  do,  however,  but  make  the 
best  of  it.  I  began  to  whistle  and  found  that  the 
proverbial  effect  on  my  courage  was  forthcoming. 
I  then  went  to  Maurice's  hotel  and  played  cards  with 
him,  losing  about  two  hundred  francs,  mainly 
through  the  fault  of  my  preoccupation. 

In  the  morning  I  went  early  to  the  station  and 
selected  a  seat  in  a  compartment  that  was  already 
full  with  that  exception,  thinking  thus  to  rid  myself 
of  the  too  close  companionship  I  did  not  wish.  But 
Fantelli  came  to  the  door  with  a  winning  smile, 
remarking  that  there  was  a  whole  side  vacant  in 
another  part  of  the  train,  and  that  he  wished  I  would 
come  there  and  enjoy  a  cigar  and  a  chat  with  him. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  accept,  for  to  refuse 
would  have  savored  of  rudeness.  The  train  started 
with  us  in  the  closest  proximity — and,  as  it  happened, 
quite  alone. 

"You  wonder,  no  doubt,"  remarked  Maurice, 
when  we  were  well  under  way,  "  why  I  take  such  an 


268  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

interest  in  your  fair  American  friend.  It  is  more 
than  probable  I  shall  be  able  to  explain  that  fully 
soon  after  we  arrive  at  Constantine.  A  message 
reached  me  this  morning  from  M.  Marline  that  is  at 
least  consoling  on  one  point.  His  friend  is  perfectly 
satisfied  with  the  statement  you  made  regarding  M. 
Desmoulins.  Not  only  was  a  quarrel  avoided  m 
time,  but  the  two  gentlemen,  who  have  had  an 
attachment  of  long  standing  for  each  other,  have 
met  with  all  the  amity  imaginable.  It  only  shows 
how  little  is  sometimes  needed  to  kindle  a  great 
fire,  and  how  easily  the  right  kind  of  chemicals  will 
put  it  out." 

"It  shows  more  than  that,  begging  your  pardon," 
I  replied.  "  It  shows  that  much  trouble  may  be 
avoided  by  timely  explanations,  and  that  there  is 
little  excuse  for  mystery  among  friends.  I  was 
possessed  of  enough  strands  in  this  affair  to  make  a 
rope,  if  I  had  known  how  to  combine  them.  For 
instance,  I  accidentally  overheard,  at  Boulogne-sur- 
Mer,  a  part  of  the  conversation  you  had  with  Miss 
Brixton,  coming  down  the  height  that  evening.  I 
was  not  seeking  it,"  I  added,  as  I  saw  his  quick 
flush,  "  but  you  paused  within  a  few  feet  of  me  and 
your  words  were  quite  distinct.  It  is  now  clear  that 
you  were  telling  Miss  Brixton  that  you  knew  of  her 
marriage  ;  and  that  the  mayor  you  alluded  to  was 
the  mayor  of  Constantine.  What  I  do  not  yet  com- 
prehend is  her  statement  that  what  you  told  her 
*  could  not  be  good  law.'  She  acted  to  me — in  the 
light  I  now  have — like  one  who  was  disposed  to  dis- 
pute your  claim.  She  said  also  that  she  had  not 
understood  French  at  the  time,  which  was  certainly- 
true.  If  I  were  to  piece  these  things  together  I 


A   DAT   AT   OOKDB    SMENDOU.  269 

should  say  that  the  marriage  at  Constantine  was 
perpetrated  in  much  the  same  manner  as  the  one 
attempted  before  the  priest  at  La  Trappe." 

Fantelli's  silence  for  the  next  few  minutes  was  of 
that  kind  which  is  more  eloquent  than  any  noise. 

"  If  that  were  true,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  would  she 
have  gone  with  him  to  his  prison  and  accepted  the 
position  of  a  wife  without  concealment  or  equivoca- 
tion ?" 

"  I  think  so,"  I  replied.  "  You  must  remember  all 
the  rest  you  have  heard  of  this  remarkable  youn| 
woman." 

He  paused  again,  as  if  trying  to  bring  his  thoughti 
together. 

"  That  is  the  trouble,"  he  said.  "  What  y<*/  told 
M.  Martine — and  he  has  told  me — is  like  &  U.ie  of 
romance.  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  feel  that  it 
ought  to  be  taken  into  serious  consideration.  It  is 
so  unlike  anything  I  have  ever  heard  of — so  differ- 
ent from  anything  in  the  feminine  nr.md,  as  we  are 
taught  to  understand  its  workings — that  my  mind 
utterly  fails  to  grasp  it.  One  thing  I  can  swear: 
Whatever  the  lady  believed  or  disbelieved,  the  man 
she  married  was  ^honest  in  that  transaction.  At 
La  Trappe  he  did  act  a  double  part — but  he  knew 
that  without  the  civil  ceremony  It  would  count  for 
nothing,  and  he  had  no  intention  of  taking  advan- 
tage of  it  except  to  bring  a  moral  pressure  on  the 
one  he  adored.  At  Constantine  he  was  in  the  most 
serious  of  moods.  An  execution  stared  him  in  the 
face.  He  wanted  the  right  to  leave  his  property  to 
the  beautiful  creature  who  had  gained  his  heart, 
and  he  satisfied  himself  through  an  interpreter  that 
She  consented  to  the  arrangement.  That  she  would 


270  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

have  wedded  him  under  other  circumstances  he  had 
reason  to  doubt ;  but  he  accepted  her  like  a  ray  of 
sunshine  in  his  sombre  path  for  the  few  days  he 
thought  remained.  I  could  tell  you  other  things, 
and  I  hope  soon  to  do  so,  which  would  convince 
even  the  most  skeptical  that  if  the  lady  was  deceived 
it  was  not  by  him." 

I  could  make  nothing  of  this,  and  bluntly  asked 
who  else  could  have  had  an  interest  in  the  matter. 

"  I  shall  find  out,  when  I  reach  Constantine,"  he 
replied,  with  a  touch  of  the  grim  quality  I  had  noted 
in  him  several  times  previously.  His  tone  implied 
that  it  would  be  far  from  agreeable  to  the  party  im- 
plicated if  the  guilt  could  be  brought  to  his  door. 
*'  We  shall  go  to  the  Hotel  de  Paris  together,  I 
hope,"  he  added,  "  and  perhaps  in  a  few  hours  we 
may  all  arrive  at  a  mutual  understanding." 

I  was  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  oblige  him,  but  a 
prior  engagement  was  to  prevent.  At  Conde  Smen- 
dou  I  made  an  excuse  to  alight,  remarking  that  I 
wanted  to  stretch  my  legs  and  take  a  look  at  the 
place. 

"  It's  a  dull  hole,"  he  said,  as  I  left  the  carriage. 
"  You'll  find  nothing  here  worth  seeing,  I  assure 
you." 

But  in  this  M.  Fantelli  was  mistaken.  One  of  the 
first  things  I  saw  was  Gustave,  with  whom  I  took 
a  brief  walk  which  brought  me  into  Miss  Brixton's 
presence  just  as  the  train  for  Constantine  was  dis- 
appearing around  the  curve  beyond. 


A  GENTLEMAN   OF   FRANCE.  271 


MISS   BRIXTON'S   CONFESSION. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

A    GENTLEMAN    OF    FRANCE. 

Blanche  closed  the  door  that  would  make  us  safe 
from  eavesdroppers  and  sat  down  opposite  to  me. 
Her  face  was  pale  but  determined.  She  had  evi- 
dently not  slept  well  the  previous  night.  Little 
things  tell  the  condition  of  a  woman's  mind. 
Through  all  the  troubles  she  had  had  before  that 
morning  I  had  never  found  her  in  a  state  resemblmg 
untidiness.  Now  I  could  see  at  a  glance  that  her 
hair  had  not  felt  a  comb  since  she  rose  from  her 
bed. 

"  We  must  throw  aside  all  circumlocution,"  she 
said,  looking  me  straight  in  the  eyes.  "I  shall  con* 
ceal  nothing  and  I  expect  the  same  of  you." 

At  last ! 

"  How  did  you  know  my  *  husband  ' — as  he  calif 
himself — was  in  Constantine  ?" 

"  I  was  told  so  by  a  friend  of  his,  yesterday.** 

Miss  Brixton's  full  bosom  rose  and  fell  rapidly. 

"  What  is  he  doing  there  ?"  she  asked  next. 

Then  I  had  to  tell  a  long  story.  Reminding  her 
of  the  incident  I  had  mentioned  at  La  Trappe,  I 
continued,  telling  of  the  sudden  departure  of  M, 
Marline  for  France,  of  my  telegrams  to  Louis  Des- 
moulins,  of  his  meeting  wirh  me  at  Constantine,  of 
my  accusations,  and  of  his  complete  exoneration. 


278  OUT  or  WEDLOCK. 

"  What  ever  made  yout  hink  It  was  he?'*  Blanche 
asked,  with  a  sudden  rush  of  ruddy  color. 

"Many  things,"  I  replied,  with  some  asperity. 
"  You  may  remember  that  I  reached  that  conclusion 
when  you  first  arrived  at  Boulogne,  and  that  I  told 
you  of  it.  And  what  did  you  say  ?  That  it  was 
untrue,  that  I  was  in  error?  Nothing  of  the  kind. 
I  remember  very  well  what  you  said  and  all  you  said. 
It  was  comprised  in  the  one  word,  '  Oh?" 

She  stretched  her  arms  above  her  head  and 
brought  her  hands  for  one  brief  moment  over  both 
her  eyes.  Then  she  resumed  her  ordinary  attitude, 
and  bade  me  proceed. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  This  M.  Marline,  having 
gathered  from  what  I  told  him  that  Col.  Desmou- 
Hns  was  your  child's  father,  goes  post-haste  to  Dijon 
with  his  friend,  the  man  who  now  is,  or  shall  we  say, 
calls  himself  your  husband.  Not  finding  M.  Des- 
moulins  there,  they  trace  him  to  Marseilles  and 
thence  to  Phillippeville.  In  some  way  you  seem 
to  have  learned  of  his  presence,  but  while  you  were 
thinking  of  going  back  to  Constantine  to  escape  him, 
he  was  already  there,  looking — not  for  you,  but  for 
M.  Desmoulins,  whose  blood  he  wanted,  and  wanted 
badly.  Luckily  I  happened  to  learn  of  his  errand 
yesterday,  and  the  telegraph  played  another  part  in 
the  affair.  This  *  husband  '  of  yours  is  now  satisfied, 
it  appears,  that  his  friend  Louis  has  committed  no 
offense  against  him  or  you.  If  you  had  given  me 
the  least  confidence,"  I  concluded,  in  my  own  de- 
fense, *'  none  of  these  things  could  have  happened." 

Miss  Brixton  nodded,  to  show  that  she  would  not 
attempt  to  controvert  my  assertion. 

*You  forget  so  much,"  she  said,  wearily.     "In 


A  GENTLEMAN  OP  FRANCS.  273 

your  heart  of  hearts  I  am  to  you  a  woman  lost  to 
all  sense  of  delicacy,  if  not  of  shame.  You  never 
will  understand  the  depth  of  the  sentiment  that 
made  me  resolve  to  be  a  mother  but  no  wife.  I  de- 
spair of  making  anyone  comprehend  it,  and  some- 
times I  almost  wish  I  had  endured  my  cross  as  other 
women  do,  without  seeking  to  establish  a  little 
heaven  of  my  own  on  this  earth.  I  have  tried  and 
I  have  failed.  The  mayor  of  Constantine  tells  me 
the  record  pronounces  M.  Fantelli  my  husband,  and 
that,  according  to  human  law,  the  child  I  have  con- 
sidered wholly  mine  is  equally  his  if  he  chooses  to 
claim  it." 

Rising  from  the  chair  I  occupied  I  took  a  step 
nearer  the  speaker,  before  I  realized  what  I  was 
doing.  Fantelli !  Which  of  us  had  lost  his  senses  ? 
Fantelli !  It  could  not  be,  for  he  himself  had  told 
me  the  husband  was  at  Constantine,  while  he  and  I 
were  discussing  the  matter  in  his  hotel  at  Phillippe- 
ville. 

"  M.  Fantelli  !     Your  husband  !"  I  gasped. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  Didn't  you  know  !"  exclaimed  Miss 
Brixton,  in  the  most  charming  confusion. 

"  But — I  don't  understand — he  was  not  at  Con- 
stantine at  all — he  came  on  the  train  with  me  this 
morning !" 

It  was  now  the  lady's  turn  to  snow  astonish- 
ment. More  than  that,  she  exhibited  decided 
fear,  and  her  eyes  wandered  to  an  inner  door,  be- 
hind which  I  rightly  guessed  Master  Wallace  was 
hidden 

"  M.  Fantelli— came  to  Conde  Smendou — with 
you  !"  she  cried. 

*4Yes;  but  not  to  stop.     I  escaped  him.     He  has 


274  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

gone  on  to  Constantine,  where  he  supposed  I  would 
accompany  him.  He  does  not  know  you  are  in 
Africa — at  least  I  think  not,"  I  added.  "  It  was  he 
who  told  me  that  your  husband  was  at  Constantine, 
that  he  had  gone  there  to  meet  M.  Desmoulins.  I 
am  more  at  sea  than  ever." 

Blanche  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  from  a  danger  she 
had  thought  nearer. 

"You  are  certain  he  went  on  with  the  train  ?"  she 
asked.  "  He  could  not  have  alighted  here  without 
your  knowledge  ?" 

"  I  am  quite  certain." 

She  took  a  guidebook  from  the  table  and  con- 
sulted it. 

''The  first  station  is  Bizot,  thirteen  kilometres 
away,"  she  mused.  "  The  next  steamer  leaves  Phil- 
lippeville  to-morrow  evening.  We  may  escape  him 
yet." 

I  could  do  no  less  than  acquiesce.  But  I  begged 
her  to  tell  me  her  story,  in  something  like  consecu- 
tive form. 

Although  her  mind  was  fully  made  up  to  this,  she 
hesitated  for  several  minutes,  before  beginning  the 
recital.  In  the  meantime,  she  went  to  the  next  room 
and  brought  Wallace  in  for  me  to  see.  When  I  had 
admired  him  sufficiently,  she  started  to  take  him 
back  to  his  nurse,  but  thought  better  of  it  and  sat 
down  with  him  in  her  lap,  as  if  his  presence  would 
help  her  to  the  courage  and  strength  she  needed. 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,"  she  said,  at  last.     "  But 

I  shall  make  the  story  as  brief  as  possible,  and  omit 

everything  you  already  know,  except  such  matters 

as  are  necessary  to  give  continuity  to  the  narrative." 

I  bowed,  and  she  began  again. 


A  GENTLEMAN    OF  FRANOB.  275 

M  It  was  two  years  ago  last  October,"  she  said, 
*  that  I  first  met  M.  Fantelli — at  a  hotel  in  a  certain 
city  in  the  south  of  Spain.  I  had  recently  dis- 
charged a  courier  with  whom  I  had  left  Paris  and 
was  travelling  alone  with  a  maid.  There  was  trouble 
over  a  bill  which  was  so  extortionate  that  I  refused 
point-blank  to  pay  it.  I  could  not  speak  Spanish, 
and  neither  could  my  maid,  and  I  was  resolved  not 
to  be  imposed  upon  so  grossly  as  the  landlord  had 
attempted.  A  gentleman  whom  I  had  seen  at  table 
in  the  dining-room  noticed  my  dilemma,  and  in  the 
most  courteous  manner  addressed  me  in  French, 
asking  if  he  could  render  any  assistance.  I  bade 
my  maid  explain  the  situation  to  him,  upon  which 
he  had  some  warm  words  with  the  proprietor  of  the 
hotel,  the  result  being  that  the  charge  against  me 
was  reduced  to  proper  dimensions.  Having  accom- 
plished this  he  lifted  his  hat,  bade  me  adieu,  and 
went  his  way.  So  far  there  had  been  nothing 
between  us  but  such  a  courtesy  as  a  man  may  ren- 
der at  any  time,  in  any  country,  to  a  woman  in  dis- 
tress." 

Miss  Brixton  paused,  drew  a  long  breath,  kissed 
Wallace,  glanced  at  me  to  note  my  expression,  which 
was  imperturbable,  and  then  proceeded  : 

"  The  next  city  at  which  I  stopped  with  my  maid 
was  a  port  at  which  I  was  to  take  ship  for  Oran.  I 
uranted  a  courier  and  was  about  to  engage  one  who 
presented  himself  when  my  newly-made  friend,  M. 
Fantelli,  appeared  again.  Learning  from  my  maid 
that  I  thought  of  hiring  the  fellow  he  urged  her  to 
advise  me  against  it,  saying  that  he  knew  him  to  be 
unreliable  and  dishonest.  He  recommended,  in  his 
place,  an  Oriental  named  Ali,  who  had  just  finished 


276  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

a  tour  with  another  American  lady,  to  whom  ae 
referred  me.  His  advice  was  followed,  and  my 
thanks  were  conveyed  to  him.  At  this  time  I  sup- 
posed the  meeting  was  our  last.  Understand,  he  had 
never  spoken  to  me  directly  except  once,  and  that  I 
could  not  comprehend  or  reply  to  him.  All  he  had 
said  was  to  Mathilde.  But  he  had  rendered  me  two 
important  services." 

I  bowed.  If  there  were  questions  I  wanted  to 
ask  I  knew  the  wiser  way  was  not  to  interrupt  her. 
She  kissed  the  child  again,  lying  against  her  breast 
with  eyes  wide  open,  as  if  he  wanted  to  hear  the 
story  too. 

"  In  the  evening,  when  out  at  sea,  M.  Fantelli 
came  upon  the  deck  where  I  was.  He  looked  sur- 
prised, I  thought  annoyed,  and  made  no  attempt  to 
intrude  himself  upon  me.  Mathilde  asked  Ali  about 
him,  and  that  was  the  first  time  we  learned  his  name. 
He  was,  it  appeared,  a  French  gentleman  of 
fortune,  who  had  travelled  extensively,  and  now 
held  a  commission  in  the  Algerian  army.  At  Oran 
we  lost  him.  While  we  remained  in  that  town  and 
vicinity  about  a  week  he  went  directly  to  Algiers, 
But  the  second  day  after  we  reached  the  latter  place 
we  saw  him  again.  It  was  at  a  review,  and  he  was 
with  his  regiment." 

A  reminiscent  expression  crossed  the  face  of  the 
narrator  at  this  point,  and  I  listened  intently  for 
what  was  to  follow. 

•*He  saw  me,  and  Ali  called  my  attention  to  him. 
After  that  he  appeared  before  me  nearly  every  day, 
in  some  way  or  other.  Sometimes  he  dined  at  the 
Hotel  de  1'Oasts,  with  a  group  of  officers.  One  even- 
ing I  recognized  in  his  party  a  gentleman  to  whom 


A  GENTLEMAN    OF   FRANCE.  277 

I  had  been  introduced  in  France — a  relation  of  a  lady 
whom  I  knew  at  home.  After  dinner  this  gentleman 
spoke  to  me,  and,  as  we  were  conversing,  M.  Fantelli 
passed.  'Allow  me  to  present  my  friend,' said  the 
America-n,  and  the  formality  was  achieved.  But 
knowing  nothing  of  each  other's  languages,  this 
seemed  of  little  moment.  I  am  sure  I  thought 
nothing  of  it,  and  I  should  have  left  Algiers  with 
only  the  faintest  memory  of  M.  Fantelli  had  he  not 
sent  me  this  letter." 

The  missive  which  she  handed  me  was  in  French, 
written  in  a  bold  hand  and  with  unusually  clear 
chirography.  It  was  a  plain,  straightforward  pro- 
posal of  marriage. 

"  You  will  wonder,"  said  the  letter,  *'  at  the  extreme 
temerity  of  a  man  who  has  only  met  you  once  in  a 
formal  way;  but  I  love  you,  mademoiselle.  I  have  oo 
patience  to  wait  till  I  can  acquire  the  tongue  you 
speak,  nor  to  take  the  slow  and  toilsome  path  that 
winds  through  the  ordinary  road  to  matrimony.  I 
enclose  a  list  of  references  as  to  my  standing  and 
reputation.  I  am  a  gentleman  to  whose  family  and 
fortunes  you  need  not  be  ashamed  to  ally  yourself. 
Trite  as  the  expression  may  appear,  it  is  the  first 
time  I  have  ever  cared  for  a  woman.  Take  time  for 
your  answer,  if  it  is  necessary,  but  at  least  give  me 
the  opportunity  to  meet  you  again,  even  should  it  be 
on  terms  of  friendship  alone." 

I  am  not  quoting  the  letter  literally,  but  its  pur- 
port was  to  the  effect  I  have  stated. 

**This  letter,"  continued  Miss  Brixton,  when  I  had 
finished  reading  it,  "  aroused  my  interest  still  more 
in  the  gentleman.  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of 
falling  in  love  with  him,  and  my  aversion  to  matri* 


278  OUT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

mony  was  too  firmly  fixed  to  enable  me  to  give  him 
the  answer  he  desired.  But  I  had  Mathilde  indite 
for  me  a  kind  note,  declining  his  offer  and  saying 
that  I  would  be  glad,  nevertheless,  to  have  him  call 
on  me  at  any  time.  After  this  was  written  it  occurred 
to  me  that  a  meeting  at  the  hotel  would  attract 
attention.  I  had  the  maid  tear  up  that  note  and 
write  another,  containing  only  the  declination  and  a 
statement  that  I  would  try  to  see  him  at  some  time 
to  be  decided  later. 

"  It  happened  that  while  I  was  going  to  La  Trappe, 
to  visit  the  monastery,  a  carriage  containing  M.  Fan- 
telli  overtook  mine.  The  meeting  was  entirely  acci- 
dental. He  saluted  me  in  answer  to  my  bow  and 
when  the  horses  were  stopped  for  a  rest  he  came  and 
spoke  to  me  by  the  wheel  of  my  vehicle.  AH  inter- 
preted his  remarks,  which  were  most  courteous  and 
respectful.  Before  we  started  again  he  requested 
permission  to  ride  with  myself  and  the  courier,  and 
it  was  granted,  Mathilde  taking  the  seat  he  had 
Vacated  in  his  carriage.  Our  conversation,  carried 
on  through  the  interpreter,  was  necessarily  slow,  but 
I  found  him  interesting  and  learned  much  of  the 
country  through  which  we  were  passing  and  of 
Algeria  in  general  during  the  next  few  hours.  At 
the  monastery  a  brother  took  us  in  charge  and  we 
visited  the  points  usually  shown  to  travellers,  finish- 
ing with  a  light  lunch.  Then,  Ali  told  me  that  I 
might  see  a  mystical  ceremony  in  the  chape4  if  I 
chose  to  accompany  the  priest  and  M.  Fantelli,and  I 
went  with  eagerness.  In  the  midst  of  this  cere- 
mony, to  which  Mathilde  guided  my  responses,  con- 
sisting only  of  the  word  '  Out,'  there  was  a  pause. 
The  monk  ceased  to  speak  to  us,  and  stepping  into 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF  FBANOE.  279 

the  courtyard  called  out  something  in  a  loud  voice. 
Mathilde  and  M.  Fantelli  exchanged  a  dozen  sen- 
tences, all  of  course  Greek  to  me,  and  then  we 
hastened  to  our  carriages  and  drove  away.  All  I 
could  learn  was  that  something  had  angered  the  friar 
and  that  it  was  best  for  us  to  leave  at  once.  The 
true  cause  I  never  dreamed  of  until  you  told  me  the 
conversation  you  had  with  Monsieur — Monsieur — " 

"  Martine  ?"    I  interrupted. 

"  Monsieur  Martine.  It  now  appears  that  a  mar- 
riage service  was  being  repeated  and  that  the  words 
I  was  interpolating  were  promises  to  love,  honor  and 
obey  for  the  rest  of  my  life  a  man  I  had  recently 
refused.  The  ceremony  would  not  have  made  me  a 
wife  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  without  being  supple- 
mented by  another  from  the  civil  authority,  but  it  is 
none  the  less  startling  to  think  I  should  have  been 
drawn  into  anything  of  the  kind.  Suspecting  noth- 
ing, I  returned  to  Algiers  and  parted  with  M.  Fan- 
telli just  before  entering  the  city." 

I  wanted  to  ask  about  Marline's  part  in  this  affair, 
but  I  thought  it  best  to  let  her  finish  her  story 
first. 

"A  few  days  later,"  continued  Blanche,  arranging 
Wallace  in  a  more  comfortable  position  (he  having 
fallen  asleep  in  her  lap),  "  I  went  to  Bougie.  M. 
Fantelli,  to  my  surprise,  joined  us  there.  He  had 
been  ordered  to  make  a  tour  of  some  of  the  fort- 
resses, and  his  proposition  to  take  our  party  with 
him  was  accepted  with  little  hesitation,  affording 
such  a  fine  opportunity  to  get  at  the  inside  of  things 
in  that  semi-civilized  land.  I  had  Ali  and  Mathilde,, 
besides  my  own  strength  and  courage,  and  I  felt 
sure  at  that  time  that  M.  Fantelli  was  one  of  the 


280  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

most  perfect  gentlemen  that  ever  breathed.  During 
the  next  month  my  journey  was  made  as  agreeable 
as  possible.  Every  point  of  interest  was  visited,  and 
under  such  auspicious  circumstances  as  few  travel- 
lers enjoy.  I  grew  to  like  the  French  gentleman 
very  much.  I  trusted  him,  above  all.  His  kind- 
nesses, in  the  face  of  the  refusal  I  had  sent  him, 
were  remarkable.  And  in  all  this  time  he  neither 
spoke  nor  wrote  anything  that  would  re-open  the 
subject  of  his  love  for  me.  He  was  courteous, 
attentive,  thoughtful,  but  never  obtrusive.  If  I  had 
not  been  so  determined  never  to  marry,  I  might 
have  relented  in  the  face  of  such  admirable 
conduct. 

"  But  my  story  is  getting  long,  Mr.  Medford.    Are 
you  certain  it  is  not  tiring  you  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"IF  YOU    HAD    SEARCHED    THE    WORLD.'* 

Assuring  her  briefly  on  this  point,  I  waited  for 
her  to  proceed.  Tired  !  I  had  never  felt1  less  so  in 
nay  life. 

"  I  returned  to  Algiers  before  M.  Fantelli,  and  for 
a  week  did  not  see  him.  Then  there  came  the  most 
appalling  misfortune,  from  which  all  our  misery  has 
arisen.  I  will  choose  the  fewest  words  possible,  for 
the  remembrance  makes  me  suffer  horribly.  I 
went  one  afternoon,  upon  invitation,  to  visit  tht 
barracks  where  M.  Fantelli's  regiment  was  quar 


**IF   YOU    HAD    SEARCHED   THE   WORLD."          281 

tered.  I  was  accompanied  inside  the  buildings  onl) 
by  Mathilde,  leaving  AH  in  the  carriage.  A  young 
officer  came  to  meet  us,  and  announcing  to  me, 
through  Mathilde,  that  he  was  M.  Fantelli's  brother, 
invited  us  into  a  parlor  to  await  that  gentleman, 
who  was  momentarily  expected.  While  we  were 
there  a  colonel — it  was  M.  Desmoulins — " 

Blanche  shuddered,  and  for  an  instant  acted  as  if 
she  could  not  continue. 

"  M.  Desmoulins,"  she  repeated,  "  came  in.  He 
was  partially  intoxicated,  and  before  any  of  us  had 
the  least  idea  what  he  meant  to  do  he  had  reeled  to 
my  side  of  the  room  and,  with  an  expression  that 
Mathilde  would  never  repeat,  but  which  must  have 
been  wholly  objectionable,  placed  his  hands  roughly 
on  my  shoulders.  Instantly,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
there  was  a  loud  report  and  the  colonel  fell  at  my 
feet  with  a  groan.  The  shooting  had  been  performed 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  by  M.  Fantelli's  brother, 
who  would  have  fired  a  second  time,  had  I  not  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  spring  in  front  of  him  and 
grasp  his  arm.  He  was  insane  with  rage.  Mathilde 
and  I  together  could  not  keep  him  from  kicking  the 
prostrate  and  apparently  senseless  form  on  the  floor, 
upon  which  he  would  have  wreaked  still  further  ven- 
geance, but  for  our  combined  efforts.  In  the  midst 
of  this  tableau,  M.  Fantelli  entered  the  room." 

I  could  not  help  speaking,  in  the  interval  which 
Miss  Brixton  took  to  recompose  her  nerves,  shaken 
at  the  fearful  recollections. 

"  But  I  always  understood — certainly  he  told  me 
so — that  Maurice  fired  the  shot  himself  !" 

"  So  he  did  ;  it  was  Maurice — I  have  tried  to  make 
that  plain  enough.  M.  Fantelli  had  not  yet  arrived, 


OITT   OF  WEDLOCK. 

but  he  came  in  a  moment  too  late.  There  lay  Des- 
moulins,  to  all  appearances  a  dead  man.  There  stood 
the  brother,  with  us  two  women  between  him  and 
the  colonel,  the  revolver  still  smoking  in  his  hand, 
and  his  face  convulsed  with  passionate  anger. 
Luckily  the  noise  had  attracted  no  attention,  for  the 
sound  of  firearms  is  too  common  in  a  military  post 
to  be  noticed.  The  first  act  of  M.  Fantelli  was  to 
lock  the  door  by  which  he  had  entered.  The  second 
was  to  take  the  pistol  from  his  brother.  The  third 
was  to  beg  me  to  be  seated,  as  I  could  tell  he  did 
by  the  motion  which  he  made  toward  a  chair. 
And  the  fourth  was  to  ask  Mathilde  to  give  him,  as 
quickly  as  possible,  an  explanation  of  the  affair." 

Ah  !  What  a  complicated  story  !  Each  hundred 
words  of  it  offered  some  new  puzzle.  It  was  not  Mau- 
rice, then,  who  had  made  an  offer  of  marriage  to 
Miss  Brixton,  who  had  piloted  her  over  the  prov- 
inces of  Algeria  and  Constantine,  but  Maxime, 
who  had  now  gone  to  Constantine,  and  Maurice  was 
to  meet  him  there.  It  was  Maxime  who  was  the 
"friend  "  of  M.  Martine,  and  the  husband  of  Blanche, 
and  the  father  of  Wallace. 

Heavens  !  How  many  men  I  had  accused  of  that 
child's  paternity  ! 

"M.  Fantelli  was  very  grave  at  this  moment," 
continued  Miss  Brixton.  "  The  duty  of  an  officer 
who  had  discovered  a  crime  overcame  for  an  instant 
every  other  feeling.  Maurice  essayed  to  speak,  but 
he  was  sternly  commanded  to  keep  silence.  He  was 
no  longer  a  brother,  but  an  officer  of  inferior  rank. 
In  fifty  words  Mathilde  told  exactly  what  had 
happened,  and  the  change  wrought  in  M.  FanteHi's 
Countenance  was  terrible.  He  strode  to  the  wounded 


"IF   TOTT   HAD   SEARCHED   THE  WORLD."          283 

man  and,  turning  him  over  roughly,  hissed  in  his 
ear  that  he  had  received  just  punishment.  Then 
he  went  up  to  Maurice  and  clasped  him  wildly  in 
his  arms,  tears  streaming  down  both  his  cheeks. 

"  Desmoulins  was  conscious,  and  began  to  speak 
in  low  but  audible  tones.  I  learned  from  Mathilde 
what  he  was  saying.  He  believed  his  wound  mor- 
tal, but  made  no  attempt  to  defend  his  act  or  to 
accuse  his  assailant.  '  Fly,  Maurice  !'  he  whispered. 
*  You  can  get  the  evening  steamer  for  Italy.  It  was 
the  brandy  that  did  it,  my  friend,  not  I !  Leave  me, 
all  of  you,  and  reveal  nothing  till  Maurice  is  free  ! 
Go,  go  ;  for  the  love  of  God  !' 

"M.  Fantelli,  upon  recovering  himself,  turned  to 
me  and  spoke  rapidly.  I  must  re-enter  my  carriage 
and  drive  to  the  hotel  without  delay.  He  would 
trust  me  to  keep  secret  the  affair  that  had  led  his 
brother  into  this  deplorable  action.  It  would  be 
best  for  me  to  leave  Algiers  in  the  morning,  lest  I 
should  be  summoned  as  a  witness  and  put  to  incon- 
venience. 'Tell  her,  Mathilde,'  he  said,  as  we  were  at 
the  door,  '  that  I  love  her,  that  I  never  did  and 
never  shall  love  another,  but  my  duty  now  is  to 
Maurice  !  When  he  is  safe,  I  trust  to  meet  her 
again.'  " 

Miss  Brixton's  story  was  weakening  her.  I  took 
the  sleeping  boy  from  her  arms  and  laid  him  on  a 
sofa.  Pouringout  a  glass  of  wine,  I  made  her  sip  it, 
and  presently  she  was  able  to  proceed  : 

"  In  the  morning,  as  advised,  we  left  Algiers. 
We  took  the  train  and  stopped  at  various  places 
where  we  had  been  before,  till  we  reached  Constan- 
tine.  I  bought  the  papers  daily,  and  after  awhile 
discovered  an  item  to  the  effect  that  Col.  Desmou. 


284  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

lins  had  been  found  badly,  probably  fatally, 
wounded,  and  that  M.  Fantelli  had  '  confessed  his 
guilt  !'  Mathilde  prevented  my  going  to  Algiers 
and  telling  the  truth,  by  saying  that  it  was  un- 
doubtedly a  ruse  to  enable  Maurice  to  get  far 
enough  away  before  the  truth  was  revealed.  This 
proved  to  be  a  correct  guess.  For  the  sake  of  ren- 
dering his  brother's  escape  certain,  M.  Fantelli  was 
willing  to  risk  his  own  hfe.  Desmoulins  had,  how- 
ever, no  intention,  as  i  have  since  learned,  of  allow- 
ing him  to  run  any  actual  danger.  He  entered  into 
the  plot  as  far  as  he  dared,  but  being  a  hospital 
patient  he  could  act  orfiy  through  others.  M.  Fan- 
telli was  brought  to  Constantino  for  confinement, 
to  await  the  result  of  his  colonel's  injuries.  Then  I 
learned,  by  means  of  Ali,  that  he  was  likely  to  be 
shot,  whether  Desmouiins  recovered  or  not,  as  mili- 
tary law  is  very  severe  on  such  matters,  and  it  was 
thought  best  to  make  an  example  to  curb  riotous 
spirits. 

"  I  sent  word  to  the  prison  that  my  evidence  and 
that  of  my  maid  was  at  his  disposal.  In  response  I 
received  an  invitation  to  come  to  see  the  prisoner, 
but  when  I  reached  the  gates  I  was  informed  that 
admission  was  refused.  Then  began  the  acts  for 
which  I  reproach  M.  Fantelli.  Ali  had  been  his 
servant  in  other  days  and  could  be  as  easily  con- 
trolled by  him  as  his  right  hand.  The  courier  came 
to  me  with  a  plausible  story,  saying  that  there  was 
but  one  way  to  soothe  the  confinement  of  this 
gentleman,  who  had  put  himself  in  such  a  dilemma. 
I  must  go  with  him  before  the  mayor  and  state  that 
we  were  betrothed.  If  I  would  consent  to  do  that  I 
would  occupy  the  position  accorded  to  relations  by 


"IF   YOU   HAD   SEARCHED   THE    WORLD."         285 

blood,  and  could  go  and  come  through  the  fortress 
gates  when  I  pleased. 

"I  did  not  at  once  consent.  But  I  thought  the 
pretence  a  justifiable  one  and  listened  to  Ali's  argu- 
ments in  its  favor  till  he  carried  the  day.  M.  Fan- 
telli  was  brought  out  under  a  guard  and  I  went  into 
the  mayor's  presence  with  him,  answering  as  directed 
by  my  courier  to  the  questions  asked  me.  I  con- 
sidered it  merely  a  pious  fraud,  justifiable  under  the 
circumstances.  When  I  went  to  the  prison  with  him 
the  paper  he  had  obtained  opened  the  door  to  me 
also.  And  well  it  might,  for  the  mayor  has  since 
informed  me  that  it  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
a  certificate  of  our  marriage  !" 

Overcome  again  by  her  feelings,  Miss  Brixton — 
as  I  could  do  no  less  than  call  her,  in  spite  of  her 
Story — arose  and  began  to  pace  slowly  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  I  could  not  take  Mathilde  with  me,  but  I  had  no 
fear.  The  first  night  I  returned  to  the  hotel.  The 
next  M.  Fantelli  was  ill  and  I  stayed  to  care  for  him. 
Then  I  had  my  deposition  taken  and  despatched  to 
the  judge  who  presided  at  the  investigation,  but  I 
was  never  sent  for.  The  authorities,  it  turned  out, 
knew  very  well  that  Fantelli  was  innocent,  and  only 
held  him  in  order  that  his  brother  might  be  induced 
to  return.  To  keep  up  the  delusion  he  was  notified 
one  day  that  he  had  but  a  few  weeks  to  live.  The 
French  papers  were  filled  with  similar  announce- 
ments. To  him  and  to  me  it  was  a  reality.  When  I 
next  went  to  him  it  was  with  a  kiss  !  We  can  be 
very  affectionate  with  the  dying.  In  a  few  days 
those  lips  would  be  cold  !  I  gave  myself  into  his 
arms,  praying  God  to  forgive  me  if  it  was  wrong  !" 


286  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

She  was  weeping  softly  now. 

"I  did  not  soon  leave  him,"  she  sobbed,  "though 
I  knew  nothing  of  the  record  that  justified  me  in  the 
sight  of  men.  I  was  possessed  with  a  wild  anxiety 
to  save  him,  although  I  knew  not  how.  I  sent  Ali 
to  the  Governor-general,  to  the  judges,  to  everybody 
who  might  have  influence,  all  to  no  purpose.  They 
must  have  laughed  at  my  efforts,  possessed  as  they 
were  of  the  truth.  Desmoulins,  feeling  sure  that 
Maurice  was  safe,  had  told  everything.  There  was 
nothing  more  I  could  do  and  I  could  not  bear  to 
stay  for  his  death.  I  resolved  on  sudden  flight  ! 

"  Having  no  longer  any  wish  to  be  accompanied 
by  the  servants  who  recalled  such  memories,  I  left 
Constantino  without  even  saying  farewell  to  them. 
Their  wages,  together  with  three  months  each  in 
advance,  I  left  for  them,  and  went  as  fast  as  possible 
to  Spain.  The  rest  of  my  story  you  know." 

There  was  a  pause  of  some  seconds.  Blanche 
sipped  the  wine  that  stood  on  the  table,  drying  at 
the  same  time  the  tears  that  remained  in  her  eyes. 
Suddenly  she  threw  herself  into  the  chair  she  had 
vacated,  and  leaned  toward  me  with  clasped  hands. 

"What  do  you  think  of  me?"  she  asked,  beseech- 
ingly. "Am  I  bad,  wicked,  shameful?  Ought  I  to 
be  shunned  by  all  who  claim  virtue  ?  Is  that  boy  on 
the  sofa  a  witness  to  my  dead  womanhood  ?  Or  is 
there,  anywhere  in  your  mind,  an  excuse  for  me  ?" 

*'  I  could  find  one,  if  my  suspicion  is  true,"  I 
answered,  gravely.  "  But  when  I  have  told  you, 
you  will  not  acknowledge  it." 

Her  swollen  eyelids,  heavy  with  weeping,  were 
raised  questioningly. 

"  You  loved  that  man  !"  I  said,  curtly. 


"IT  YOTJ   HAD   SEARCHED    THE    WORLD."         287 

"  No  ;  oh,  no  !"  she  answered.  "  I  was  only  sorry 
for  him.  His  brother  had  tried  to  defend  me  from 
the  slurs  of  a  drunken  brute,  and  through  this  his 
own  life  was,  as  I  thought,  in  peril." 

I  shook  my  head  slowly. 

"  This  is  the  first  opinion  I  have  expressed  since  I 
have  known  you,  Blanche,"  I  said.  "  I  tell  you 
again,  you  loved  him.  You  love  him  now  !" 

"Now!"  She  sat  upright  and  stared  at  me. 
"Now!  When  I  know  that  he  bribed  my  courier 
and  maid,  to  entrap  me  !" 

I  motioned  her  to  be  quiet  and  to  listen. 

"  I  am  sure  that  he  did  neither  of  those  things,"  I 
said.  "  Maurice  swears  to  me  that  his  brother  be- 
lieved the  marriage  your  free  act.  It  must  have 
been  the  courier  (so  devoted  to  his  former  master's 
interests,  that  he  took  the  responsibility  on  himself) 
who  arranged  the  fraud.  Everything  I  have  heard 
of  M.  Fantelli  stamps  him  as  a  true  gentleman.  He 
offered  himself  to  you  in  the  most  honest  and  open 
manner.  When  refused,  he  acted  the  part  of  a 
straightforward,  high-minded  man.  Remember  how, 
during  the  month  when  he  piloted  you  through 
the  country,  he  refrained  from  spoiling  your  pleas, 
ure  by  renewing  his  overtures.  He  risked  his  life 
to  save  that  of  his  brother.  When  you  deserted  him 
he  forbore  to  pursue  you,  saying  that  your  happi- 
ness was  greater  in  his  eyes  than  his  own.  Hearing 
that  Desmoulins  had  violated  the  friendship  renewed 
between  them,  he  crossed  the  sea,  to  call  him  to  a 
swift  account  for  the  harm  to  your  good  name. 
Would  such  a  man  intrigue  with  a  courier  to  draw 
you  into  a  false  marriage  ?  Never  !  I  once  heard 
you  say  that  you  would  have  for  a  father  to  your 


288  our  or  WEDLOCK. 

child  only  one  who  was  honorable,  pure,  uprigru 
and  brave.  If  you  had  searched  the  world  over,  you 
could  not  have  found  a  man  who  better  answered 
the  description  !" 

She  was  silenced,  and  I  thought  a  faint  ray  of  joy 
came  into  her  pale  face. 

"  He  loves  you,"  I  repeated,  '*  and  you  love  him. 
That  may  not  justify,  but  it  certainly  palliates  your 
conduct." 

But  she  insisted  in  saying,  no,  no  !  She  did  not 
love  him.  She  did  not  want  to  be  a  wife.  She 
would  never  share  her  child  with  his  father.  And, 
catching  up  the  guidebook  again,  she  began  to  plan 
the  way  of  escape  from  the  province. 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

CAUGHT     IN     A     TRAP. 

Our  plan  was  to  remain  in  perfect  quiet  at  Conde 
Smendou  until  the  next  afternoon,  and  then  to  take 
the  train  that  connected  with  the  steamer  at  Phil- 
lippeville.  We  were  reasonably  certain  not  to  see 
anyone  we  had  ever  known  in  that  little  half-Moorish 
settlement.  In  the  evening  Blanche  talked  de- 
lightedly of  home,  of  good  Dr.  Robertson,  the  Drews 
and  her  other  acquaintances.  We  would  return  to 
them  and  never  leave  America  again.  If  it  should  be 
claimed  by  her  lawyers  that  she  was  legally  married 
she  could  apply  for  a  divorce  on  account  of  "  deser- 
tion," or  "  non-support,"  or  some  of  the  other 
convenient  reasons,  and  relieve  herself  of  the  night- 


CAUGHT   IN   A   TEAP.  289 

mare  that  would  hang  over  her  as  long  as  any  man 
had  the  shadow  of  a  claim  on  her  boy.  I  let  her 
talk  on,  without  much  interruption,  though  I  felt 
that  she  was  disposed  to  be  rather  unjust  to  M. 
Fantelli,  whose  conduct  in  this  entire  matter  appealed 
to  my  love  of  the  chivalrous.  I  should  be  nearly  as 
glad  as  she  to  reach  New  York  again,  and  calculated 
that  we  ought  to  accomplish  the  journey  in  about 
two  weeks,  if  everything  went  favorably. 

There  was  no  incident  worthy  of  note  during  the 
night.  The  next  day  we  arrived  at  Phillippeville, 
and  were  driven  without  delay  to  the  steamer.  Miss 
Bdxton  went  at  once  to  her  stateroom  and  remained 
there  until  we  were  out  at  sea,  and  I  did  the  same  in 
mine,  having  some  writing  that  I  wished  to  ac» 
complish.  We  were  the  last  persons  to  dine,  though 
the  passenger  list  was  a  small  one,  and  after  dinner, 
it  being  then  about  half-past  eight  o'clock,  we  went 
to  the  deck  for  a  little  promenade. 

It  was  a  fine  night.  The  Mediterranean  was  at 
its  best.  The  air  was  at  that  happy  stage  when  a 
degree  warmer  or  colder  could  not  be  desired.  The 
waves  were  only  slightly  ruffled  by  the  breeze  that 
blew  from  the  west.  We  had  walked  some  time  and 
were  debating  whether  we  could  do  better  than 
continue  in  that  occupation  for  the  next  hour,  when 
Master  Wallace  appeared  in  the  arms  of  his  maid 
for  his  good-night  kiss.  As  the  little  fellow  was 
wide  awake  and  crowed  joyfully  at  sight  of  his 
mother,  Blanche  told  the  nurse  to  remain  on  the 
deck  for  a  time,  and  took  the  child  in  her  lap. 

While  we  were  devoting  our  conversation  to  the 
cause  of  all  his  mamma's  joys  and  woes,  two  gentle. 
men  came  up  the  companion  way,  and  stopped, 


290  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

staring  at  us  with  astonishment  written  on  their 
faces.  However  surprised  they  may  have  been,  we 
were  certainly  no  less  so.  They  were  Maurice  Fan- 
telli  and  M.  Martine  ! 

Miss  Brixton  gave  one  quick  glance  about  her,  to 
see  if  any  feasible  avenue  of  escape  presented  itself, 
and  then  resigned  herself  to  the  inevitable.  She 
would  have  to  meet  these  men.  Her  bosom  swelled 
with  her  emotions,  as  she  pressed  the  child  closer  to 
her  heart,  and  she  gave  me  a  look  that  constituted 
me  her  protector,  whatever  might  be  about  to 
occur. 

Assuming  as  much  indifference  as  possible  in  my 
manner,  I  walked  toward  the  new  comers  and 
greeted  them  with  a  "Good-evening."  For  a 
moment  they  could  hardly  summon  enough  sang 
froid  to  reply. 

"  It  is  she  !"  whispered  M.  Martine,  in  a  startlingly 
distinct  tone. 

"  Yes,"  said  Maurice. 

"  And  that—" 

"  Is  the  child." 

Then  they  begged  my  pardon,  and  hastened  to 
assure  me  that  the  meeting  was  totally  unexpected 
to  them. 

*  I  knew  you  must  have  left  the  train  purposely, 
at  Conde  Smendou,"  said  Maurice,  with  dignity, 
**  because  you  did  not  come  to  Constantine  on  the 
next  one.  That  was,  however,  your  own  affair.  I 
did  not  know — I  did  not  think  for  a  moment — that 
you  were  on  this  boat." 

M.  Martine  hastened  to  add  his  testimony  to  this 
Statement. 

*I  assure  you,  monsieur,  that  this  is  true,"  he  said, 


CA.FGHT  IN   A  TRAP.  2S1 

earnestly.    "  And  I  would  thank  you  to  say  AS  muck 
to— to  madame !" 

I  wondered  why  M.  Martine  joined  so  earCestly  in 
this  message  to  Miss  Brixton,  but  I  accepted  hi* 
statement  with  a  bow. 

"  Where  is  your  brother  Maxime  ?"  I  asked 
Maurice.  "  Is  he  on  the  steamer  with  you  ?** 

"No,"  he  answered,  with  a  start.  "Why  do  you 
ask  that  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  knowledge  that  she  *' — I  indi- 
cated Miss  Brixton  with  a  motion  of  my  head— 
"  would  rather  not  see  him.'* 

Maurice  and  M.  Martine  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Would  rather  not  see  Maxime  !"  interrupted 
Maurice.  "I  did  not  know  that  she  had  any  such 
feeling." 

The  old  trouble  !  We  never  could  seem  to  under-1 
Stand  each  other,  quite. 

"  Do  you  imagine,"  I  asked,  '*  that  she  is  particu- 
larly anxious,  at  this  moment,  to  look  on  the  face  oi 
her  child's  father  ?'* 

M.  Martine  strode  a  step  forward,  but  Mauric* 
grasped  him  firmly  by  the  sleeve. 

"  Her  child's  father  !"  exclaimed  the  former,  in 
that  fierce  whisper  of  his.  *'  Who  told  you  this  ?'* 

"Why,"  I  responded,  astounded,  "she  did,  for 
one.  And — " 

Martine,  throwing  off  the  hand  that  would  have 
restrained  him,  took  two  steps  more  and  his  breath 
was  in  my  face. 

"  Retract  that,"  he  said,  "  or—" 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  !"  interrupted  Maurice, 
"wait!  She  will  hear  you— she  will  see  that  you 


OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

/ 

arc  quarrelling.     Let  me  try  to  untangle  this  knot, 
Jules — a  word  !     I  insist !" 

With  a  powerful  movement  the  speaker  drew  the 
Other  back  and  began  to  catechise  me. 

"  What  did  madame  say — exactly  ?"  he  asked. 
"Quote  her  literal  words,  if  you  can." 

Much  perturbed  I  tried  to  answer  him. 

"  She  said — why,  you  told  me  the  same  thing — are 
we  all  crazy  ? — that  your  brother  was  Wallace's 
father." 

Maurice  gave  his  companion  a  wise  look.  Then 
he  said  to  me,  "  But  she  did  not  use  the  word 
'Maxtme?'" 

"  I  am  not  sure";  but  what  is  the  difference  ?  That 
in  your  brother's  name,  is  it  not  ?" 

M.  Marline  could  not  be  restrained. 

"  She  said  '  his  brother,'  and  you  thought  she 
/neant  Maxime  ?" 

"Of  course." 
,    M.  Martine's  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  It  is  all  explained,  then,"  said  Maurice,  beaming 
also.  "  I  have  two  brothers,  you  see.  It  was  the 
other  one." 

The  other  one  !  This  made  the  fourth  or  fifth 
person  I  had  accused  of  being  the  father  of  that 
unhappy  child  !  Was  it  to  rest  here,  I  wondered,  or 
were  there  still  more  to  follow  ! 

"  It  was  the  other  one,"  repeated  Maurice,  after 
exchanging  a  pressure  of  the  hand  with  his  compan- 
ion. "  In  short,  it  was  Jules  here,  \vhom  we  have 
been  alluding  to  all  the  time  as  M.  Martine.  His 
name  is  Jules  Martine  Fantelli,  and  it  was  to  him 
that  the  ceremony  of  marriage  with  your  sweet 


CAUOHT    IN    A   TRAP.  293 

American  friend  took  place  in  the  mairie  at  Con- 
stantine." 

I  glanced  at  Blanche,  hugging  her  child  to  her 
heart,  at  the  other  end  of  the  deck,  and  her  aspect 
of  alarm  justified  the  revelation.  So  this  was  the 
man  she  had  dreaded  to  meet,  that  she  had  fled  from 
Phillippeville  to  avoid.  And,  after  all  her  pains,  we 
were  at  sea  with  him,  on  a  French  vessel,  in  as  pretty 
a  trap  as  could  be  imagined.  Were  he  disposed  to 
assert  his  authority  over  her,  there  was  no  place 
more  suitable.  We  could  rely  only  on  his  forbear- 
ance. 

"  I  am  the  husband  of  that  lady  and  the  father  of 
that  boy,"  said  Martine,  slowly.  '*  Yet  I  have  no 
wish  to  claim  them  against  their  will.  Now  that  vre 
have  met  so  unexpectedly,  however,  I  would  like  to 
talk  long  enough  with  Mme.  Fantelli  to  disabuse  her 
mind  of  some  of  the  things  she  has  harbored  against 
me.  M.  Medford,  I  want,  if  possible,  to  set  myself 
right  before  my  wife.  Will  you  tell  her  that  for 
me?" 

Bowing  assent,  I  left  the  gentleman  and  went  to 
Miss  Brixton's  side. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,**  she  broke 
out,  "and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  refuse  every- 
thing." 

This  seemed  so  unjust  that  I  was  moved  to  a  slight 
deception. 

"  Has  it  occurred  to  you,"  I  inquired, "  that  he  can 
do  what  he  pleases  on  a  vessel  that  flies  the  French 
flag?  But  he  asks  very  little.  He  only  wants  to 
show  you  that  you  have  charged  him  in  your 
thoughts  with  wrongs  he  never  committed.  He  will 
not  deU-in  you  long,  I  think,  judging  from  what  he 


294  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 


said  to  in<*>  Is  it  not  better  to  hear  him  now,  ana 
have  it  4>ndtA  ?" 

When  I  alluded  to  M.  Fantelli's  rights,  Miss  Brix- 
ton's  lip  grew  firm  and  her  independent  spirit  seemed 
about  to  assert  itself  in  some  determined  phrase. 
When  I  changed  and  spoke  of  a  matter  of  policy, 
she  hesitated  and  then  agreed  with  me. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  reflectively.  "  But  do  not 
go  far  away.  Stay  where  you  can  hear  my  voice  if 
I  call  you." 

She  spoke  like  a  child  afraid  of  some  ordeal,  who 
wants  the  comforting  assurance  that  its  parent  will 
be  close  at  hand. 

"  And  Wallace  ?"  I  suggested.  "  Had  not  his 
nurse  better  take  him  to  the  stateroom  ?" 

She  caught  the  child  to  her  in  sudden  alarm. 

"  How  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing  ?"  she 
exclaimed.  "  He  might  have  it  stolen,  while  we 
were  talking.  No,  I  will  keep  the  baby  here. 
Wallace  and  I  will  meet  this  man  together." 

M.  Jules  thanked  me  when  I  brought  the  message 
that  he  could  have  the  desired  interview,  but  he  said 
farther  that  he  wanted  me,  by  all  means,  to  be  a 
participator  in  it.  He  realized,  he  said,  that 
madame  would  feel  nervous  if  left  in  his  sole  pres- 
ence, and  he  preferred  that  her  pleasure  should  be 
consulted  in  all  things.  Accordingly  I  accompanied 
him  to  Miss  Brixton's  side  of  the  boat. 

M  Blanche,"  I  said,  "  this  gentleman  asks  me  to 
listen  to  what  he  has  to  tell  you,  and  I  have  con- 
sented to  do  so,  if  it  is  your  wish." 

Miss  Brixton  —  I  can  call  her  nothing  else,  try  as  I 
fnay  —  changed  to  a  rosy  red  at  my  words.  She 
turned  her  eyes  toward  me,  avoiding  those  of  M, 


CAUGHT  IN  A  TRAP.  295 

./antelli,  and  bowed.  It  was  plain  that  she  was 
undergoing  suppressed  excitement  of  no  ordinary 
character — that  every  nerve  was  at  its  severest  ten- 
sion. 

When  M.  Fantelli  began  to  speak  a  perceptible 
thrill  passed  over  her  body.  His  English  was  7ery 
good,  but  strongly  marked  with  the  French  ascent. 
His  voice  was  low  and  sweet,  his  intonation  that  ef 
a  man  who  has  no  higher  wish  than  to  speak  the 
truth.  When  I  remembered  that  he  had  learned  the 
language  within  three  years  I  thought  he  did 
remarkably  well. 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  address  you,  madame,"  he 
said,  "  when  I  find  you  in  this  unexpected  place, 
with  my  child  in  your  arms.  If  I  do  not  make  my 
thoughts  as  plain  as  I  could  wish,  you  will  remem- 
ber that  the  situation  is  a  trying  one,  as  well  for 
me  as  for  you.  I  am  speaking  a  tongue  of  which 
I  did  not  know  ten  words  when  I  met  you,  a  little 
over  three  years  ago.  I  have  learned  it  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  conversing  with  you  in  it,  if  ever  that 
happiness  should  be  mine." 

He  waited,  apparently  for  some  sign  to  guide  him 
in  what  he  should  say  farther,  but  the  wife's  face 
had  no  signal  for  him.  The  woman's  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  figure  of  her  child. 

"  I  have  learned,"  he  proceeded,  presently,  "  that 
you  accuse  me  of  grave  offenses.  It  is  true  that  I 
tried  to  have  a  religious  service  performed  upon  us 
at  the  monastery,  but  I  call  Heaven  to  witness 
that  my  intentions  were  the  purest  in  the  world.  I 
would  have  told  you  what  had  happened,  explained 
my  reasons,  and  have  left  the  rest  to  your  judgment. 
I  was  very  much  in  love  with  you.  I  could  not 


296  OUT  OP  WEDLOCK. 

bring  myself  to  believe  that  you  would  not  !n  time 
reciprocate  my  affection.  But,  at  Constantine — I 
swear  to  you  before  God  ! — I  was  as  much  deceived 
as  you.  It  was  Ali's  too  great  fondness  for  me  that 
led  him  into  making  the  arrangements  that  he 
thought  would  please  me  best.  I  accepted  you, 
before  the  law,  as  my  true,  wedded  wife,  with  all 
honesty.  I  had,  as  I  believed,  but  a  few  days  more 
of  earth.  Indeed,  your  presence  made  me  feel  that 
heaven's  gates  had  already  been  opened.  Then  you 
went  away,  and  they  came  to  tell  me  I  was  free  ; 
but  I  would  rather  have  met  the  firing  squad,  with 
your  kiss  on  my  lips.  Yes,  I  assure  you  !" 

I  glanced  at  Blanche  from  time  to  time,  and  saw 
that  her  mouth  trembled.  For  myself  I  will  not 
deny  my  eyes  were  moist.  Fantelli's  tone  was  so 
tender  and  his  words  so  apt. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  if  you  believe  me,"  con- 
tinued the  speaker,  pausing. 

*'  Yes,  yes,"  came  the  scarcely  audible  answer. 

"  That  encourages  me,"  he  said,  brightening. 
•*  And  now  that  I  have  been  the  unfortunate  means 
of  making  you  a  wife,  when  you  did  not  wish  to  be 
one,  what  is  there  that  I  can  do  ?  And  the  little 
boy  ?  You  do  not  give  him  my  name,  I  have  heard, 
and  you  even  call  yourself  *  mademoiselle '  instead 
of  '  madame/  That  is  not  right.  It  will  not  be 
well  for  htm — for  the  baby — by-and-by.  Also,  he 
must  inherit  my  estate.  If  I  were  living  with  you  as 
your  husband  I  would  not  have  to  say  these  things, 
but — you  do  not  want  me,  I  am  afraid." 

Blanche  shook  her  head  slowly,  as  if  the  cords  of 
her  neck  were  swollen. 

*•  You  must  have  suffered — from  those  who  knew 


CAUGHT  IK  A  TRAP.  297 

you  a  mother  and  thought  you  no  wife,"  he  said, 
very  gently.  "  Let  me  at  least  go  to  your  home 
with  you  and  tell  them  I  am  your  husband.  Let  me 
right  you,  my  dearest  one,  before  the  slanderers. 
Then,  if  you  bid  me,  I  will  depart.  And,  in  the 
meantime,  I  will  ask  nothing  of  you." 

The  fair  young  head  shook  slowly  again,  but  the 
lips  did  not  open. 

"You  will  think  better  of  it  some  day,  Blanche," 
said  Fantelli,  uttering  her  name  as  simply  as  the 
rest  of  the  words  he  was  speaking.  "  And  now,  this 
is  all  I  wish  to  say  to  you  at  present.  You  do  not 
need  to  be  told  how  true  my  love  is,  what  suffering 
I  have  to  endure  because  I  have  lost  you.  You  were 
my  wife  for  twenty  blissful  days.  You  know  ;  you 
know  !  And  in  all  that  time,"  he  added,  reminis- 
cently,  "  there  was  nothing  to  show  that  you  hated 
me.  Nothing." 

Miss  Brixton  began  to  cry  softly.  Wallace  per- 
ceived it  and  put  his  hand  to  her  cheek  with  the 
single  word,  "  Mamma  !" 

As  Fantelli  ceased,  Blanche  nerved  herself  for  a 
brief  reply.  She  realized  the  necessity  of  saying 
something  that  this  terribly  earnest  man  would 
understand. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  we 
had  to  bend  forward  to  hear  her.  "  If  I  were  ca- 
pable of  loving  any  man  I  am  sure  it  would  be  such 
a  one  as  you.  But  I  cannot  love  a  man.  I  can  only 
love  a  child.  This  infant  has  every  drop  of  affection 
that  runs  through  my  being.  He  and  I  want  noth- 
ing but  each  other.  If  you  truly  care  for  us,  you 
can  best  show  it  by  leaving  us  entirely  alone." 


298  OUT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

M.  Fantelli  arose  and  stood,  a  very  pathetic 
picture,  gazing  upon  his  sweetheart  and  offspring. 

"  I  shall  do  it,  madame,"  he  said,  and  his  tone  had 
never  sounded  so  musical.  "  From  this  moment  you 
will  not  see  me  again  unless  by  some  accident  I  can- 
not prevent.  I  do  not  hold  to  the  old  views  about 
marriage.  To  me  no  love  of  woman  is  desirable 
when  it  has  to  find  its  basis  in  duty  alone.  I  will 
send  you  my  permanent  address  at  Paris.  Should 
you  ever  want  me,  I  will  fly  to  you  from  any  part  of 
the  earth  where  I  may  happen  to  be.  Unless  I 
receive  such  a  message  I  shall  never  intrude  myself 
upon  your  presence.  I  only  ask  one  thing  now. 
Let  me  kiss  our  child." 

Impulsively  for  one  second  she  drew  the  boy  away 
from  him.  Then  she  raised  Wallace  to  the  face  of 
his  father. 

"  Adieu,"  said  M.  Fantelli. 

"  Adieu,"  murmured  Miss  Brixton. 

As  soon  as  the  Frenchman  had  left  the  deck, 
which  he  did  immediately  with  his  brother,  Blanche 
begged  me  to  assist  her  to  her  stateroom.  Her 
strength  had  left  her  completely.  The  maid,  who 
had  sat  but  a  little  way  from  us,  came  to  carry  the 
child,  and  I  had  to  do  almost  as  much  for  its 
mother.  She  leaned  nearly  her  whole  weight  on  me 
and  her  breath  came  in  quick,  short  gasps. 

**  If  it  were  not  for  my  baby,"  she  whispered  to 
me,  on  the  way,j"  I  would  throw  myself  into  the  sea. 
I  would  never  have  believed  myself  capable  of  inflict- 
ing such  pain.  Did  you  see  his  face  when  he  kissed 
Wallace  ?' 

I  told  her  I  did  and  that  I  pitied  him  sincerely. 

"  Not  m«re  than  I,"  she  said,  passionately,  "  not 


"HE   LOOKS    LIKE   WALLACE." 

more  than  I  !  If  there  were  only  something  I  could 
do  for  him  !  But  there  is  nothing — nothing  but  to 
become  his  wife,  and  that  cannot  be  !  How  he 
must  despise  me,  in  h?s  heart  !  I  despise  myself,  I 
am  sure.  Oh,  Wallace,"  she  cried,  "  what  have  I  not 
endured  for  your  sweet  sake !  And  you  are  still 
mine — all  mine  !  No  one  else  can  claim  a  hair  of 
your  darling  head  !" 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

"  HE   LOOKS   LIKE    WALLACE." 

We  did  not  see  Jules  Fantelli  again  on  that 
steamer.  Before  we  reached  Marseilles  Maurice 
came  to  bid  me  farewell,  but  refrained  from  alluding 
in  any  way  to  his  brother.  He  gave  me  a  hand  that 
trembled,  and  I  knew  well  that  the  sufferings  of  the 
husband  and  father  were  shared  by  this  devoted 
relation.  Their  fraternal  a-ffection  was  of  the 
strongest  kind,  one  that  I  have  seldom  seen  paralleled. 
I  could  not  heip  feeling  that  I  had  never  met  men 
who  appealed  more  to  my  sense  of  what  brotherhood 
ought  to  mean  than  these  same  gentlemen. 

On  the  pier  at  New  York  we  found  good  Dr. 
Robertson  awaiting  us,  accompanied  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Drew.  Blanche's  home  was  in  perfect  order 
and  she  seemed  like  another  child  when  she  stepped 
across  the  familiar  threshold.  Only  the  usual 
Common-places  had  been  exchanged  in  the  carnage, 
but  now  Blanche  spoke  to  me  with  an  earnestness 


300  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

that  attested  her  sincerity,  and  bade  me  tell  her 
entire  story  to  her  friends  as  soon  as  I  could  find  it 
convenient. 

"They  may  as  well  know — now  that  the  secret  is 
out,"  she  said. 

And  that  very  evening,  when  Blanche  was  in  her 
private  apartments  with  the  baby,  I  outlined  the 
strange  story  I  have  given  to  you. 

"  Thank  God  she  is  a  wife,  after  all  !"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Drew,  devoutly,  when  I  had  finished.  "Thank 
God  that  little  Wallace  is  the  offspring  of  a  legiti- 
mate union  !" 

"  But  she  will  never  live  with  her  husband,"  I  said. 
"  She  has  positively  refused  to  recognize  him  in  any 
way.  The  next  thing  likely  is  a  divorce." 

"That  does  not  alter  the  case,"  replied  the  lady. 
"She  has  conformed  to  the  law.  We  can  tell  every- 
one that  their  dreadful  suspicions  were  untrue.  It 
relieves  us  of  a  terrible  load,  and  I  for  one  breathe 
easier  over  this  affair.  Let  her  get  the  divorce,  if 
that  is  her  wish.  People  will  not  blame  her  seriously. 
Minnie  had  a  divorce,  you  know,  and  now  she  is 
married  again." 

"  Indeed  !     I  had  not  heard  of  that." 

"  Oh,  yes.  To  a  very  nice  fellow,  too.  He  was  in 
the  same  trouble  as  she,  married  to  a  woman  he 
could  not  get  along  with.  So  Minnie  and  he 
arranged  it.  She  promised  to  marry  him  as  soon  as 
he  was  free,  and  a  month  ago  they  got  the  papers 
and  were  joined  by  a  clergyman  the  same  evening. 
She  is  quite  happy  at  last,  poor  child  !" 

I  thought  of  an  expression  that  someone  has 
applied  to  our  American  system  of  divorce  and  re- 


"HE   LOOKS   LIKE  WALLACE."  301 

marriage,  "  consecutive  polygamy."    It  seemed  to  fit 
the  present  case  excellently. 

"  Did  she  ever  hear  what  became  of  Bartlett  ?"  I 
inquired. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Drew.  *'  He  married  an  Illinois 
lady,  as  soon  as  Minnie  got  her  separation  from  him, 
and  I  learn  is  spending  a  small  fortune  that  she 
had  left  her,  as  fast  as  he  can.  I  shall  feel  so  differ- 
ent about  Blanche,"  she  added,  returning  to  that 
subject  with  evident  satisfaction.  "  One  can  go  any- 
where with  her  now.  If  only  she  would  call  her- 
self Madame  What's-his-Name  instead  of  '  Miss 
Brixton.'  I  shall  talk  to  her.  She  owes  something 
to  those  of  us  who  have  stood  by  her  through  alj 
this  affair.  Don't  you  think  she  will  give  in  that 
much  for  our  sakes,  Mr.  Medford  ?" 

I  replied  that  I  was  very  much  in  doubt  of   it; 
that  I  saw  nothing  to  give  me  any  such  impression 
She  was  very  proud  of  her  name  and  wanted  to  regis 
ter  it  on  the  steamer's  passenger  list  with  the  words 
"and   child,"  added.      The   printer  of  the  list  haO 
remedied  what  he  took  to  be  an  error  by  changing 
the  "Miss"  to  "Mrs."      But   her  entry   was  plain, 
"  Miss  Blanche  Brixton  and  child." 

"  Well,  we  will  hope  for  the  best,"  said  Mrs.  Dr*w, 
with  a  sigh.  "  And  you  say  this  Mr.  — " 

"  Fantelli." 

"  He  is  a  nice  gentleman  ?" 

"  One  of  the  most  perfect  I  ever  met,"  I  answered. 

On  my  own  account  I  began  a  correspondence 
with  M.  Fantelli.  I  wanted  to  assure  him  of 
the  state  of  my  feelings,  and  to  let  him  know  that 
if  I  could  at  any  time  aid  him  in  regaining  his  right- 
ful position  I  should  do  so.  Among  other  things 


302  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

I  requested  his  photograph,  explaining  that  I  wisucd 
to  own  it,  in  case  anything  happened  to  his  wife  and 
I  was  left  the  guardian  of  his  child.  In  due  course 
an  answer  came,  breathing  the  same  devotion  to 
those  he  loved  that  I  had  seen  in  his  attitude  on  the 
Mediterranean  steamer,  and  with  it  the  picture.  He 
mentioned  in  his  letter  that  he  was  anxious  to  visit 
America,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  but  intended 
to  avoid  a  meeting  that  might  be  disagreeable  to  his 
wife.  I  answered  that  I  would  do  all  in  my  power 
to  make  his  stay  in  New  York  enjoyable,  and  finally 
an  answer  came  to  this  letter  stating  that  Maurice 
and  he  would  sail  on  the  Touraine  on  a  date  not  far 
distant. 

Blanche  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  intention  of 
securing  a  divorce,  now  that  she  had  the  sea  between 
her  and  her  liege  lord.  Her  life  was  spent  in  the 
old  way,  mainly  with  her  son.  I  took  dinner  with 
them  generally,  by  a  sort  of  regular  understanding,' 
and  one  day  at  the  table  I  took  M.  Fantelli's  por- 
trait from  my  pocket  and  handed  it  to  Blanche. 

To  my  surprise  she  made  no  fuss  whatever.  The 
only  thing  noticeable  was  a  quiver  of  the  eyelashes, 
as  she  remarked  that  the  likeness  was  excellent. 

"  He  is  a  splendid  fellow  !"  she  added,  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  Have  you  two  of  these  ?  I  would  like  one 
rery  much." 

I  told  her  I  had  but  one,  but  she  should  take  it 
with  pleasure  if  she  wished,  for  it  was  worth  more 
to  her  than  to  me. 

"It  is,  indeed!"  she  replied.  Then  she  called 
the  attention  of  the  young  gentleman  in  a  high  chair 
by  her  side.  "  See  here,  Master  Wallace,  this  is  your 
father.  Is  he  not  a  handsome  man  ?  And  he's  as 


"HB  LOOKS   LIKE  WALLACE."  803 

good  as  he  is  handsome.  If  you  want  to  make  your 
mamma  happy  be  as  noble  as  he  when  you  grow 
up." 

She  accepted  the  picture  and  had  it  put  in  a  frame 
on  her  mantel.  I  was  in  her  rooms  one  day  when 
Mrs.  Clinton  Eastlake — formerly  Miss  Minnie  Drew 
and  later  Mrs.  Bartlett — was  calling  there.  Minnie's 
attention  was  called  to  the  photograph,  and  she 
casually  inquired  who  it  was. 

"Oh,  that?"  said  Blanche,  raising  her  eyes. 
"That  is  Wallace's  father." 

"  M.  Fantelli  !"  exclaimed  the  other,  inspecting  it 
more  closely. 

"Yes." 

"  He  looks  very  dignified,"  was  Minnie's  next  com- 
ment. "  Not  at  all  like  I  imagined  him." 

Blanche  let  her  eyes  fall  longingly  on  the  picture. 

4<  He  is  a  good  man,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  Ah  !" 

"  Very  good,"  repeated  Blanche,  absently.  u  He  is 
the  best  man  I  ever  knew,  except  my  father." 

"I  agree  to  that  perfectly,"  I  remarked.  "And  I 
must  add  that  Fate  is  too  severe  when  it  deprives 
him  of  a  wife  and  child  he  adores." 

Miss  Brixton  was  silent.  She  evidently  did  not 
like  to  enter  into  a  discussion  in  which  she  must 
take  the  defensive. 

"  He  looks  like  Wallace,"  said  Minnie,  regarding 
the  picture  intently.  "  I  should  think  you  would 
want  him  with  you,  Blanche,  to  help  guide  your 
boy  when  he  grows  older.  A  father  is  needed  then 
—a  good  father — and  no  mother  can  fill  his  place." 

Blanche  turned  toward  us  with  both  her  hands 
outstretched. 


304  OUT  OF  WEDLOCK. 

"  Why  are  you  all  so  cruel  to  me  ?"  she  cried. 
44  You  know  I  have  thought  of  all  these  things — that 
I  would  love  to  have  him  here  for  Wallace's  sake—- 
and you  know  the  insuperable  obstacles  in  my  way. 
A  father,  yes,  that  is  well  enough.  But  to  gain  that 
relation,  M.  Fantelli  would  have  to  assume  also 
that  of  a  husband.  To-day  I  am  Blanche  Brixton, 
free,  independent,  my  own  mistress.  Married,  I 
should  be  under  the  authority  of  one  who  could,  if 
he  chose,  make  my  life  a  hell  !  It  is  well  enough  to 
say  that  M.  Fantelli  would  not  do  that,  but  who 
knows  ?  There  are  people  in  menageries  who  place 
their  heads  in  the  mouths  of  lions.  For  a  number 
of  seasons  they  do  this  with  impunity,  and  then, 
without  warning,  the  great  jaws  close.  I  cannot 
bear  to  give  even  the  best  of  men  such  rights  over 
me  !  I  cannot  ;  no,  I  cannot !" 

Minnie  looked  at  the  speaker  strangely. 

"There  is  a  difference  in  men,"  she  said.  "Mr. 
Bartlett  and  Mr.  Eastlake  are  both  men,  but  such 
a  variation  !  I  do  exactly  as  I  like  now,  and  I  think 
that  is  the  way  every  wife  should  do." 

Miss  Brixton  heard  her  impatiently. 

"You  do  as  you  like  because  he  lets  you!"  she 
said.  "  When  he  takes  the  notion,  you  will  do  as^ 
likes.  I  know  how  it  is.  Authority  is  vested  by  the 
law  in  the  man.  Suppose  I  agreed  to  live  with  M. 
Fantelli  as  his  wife.  Everything  would  go  smoothly 
for  a  number  of  weeks,  perhaps.  Then  there  would 
come  a  day  when  he  would  say  yes,  and  I  would  say 
no.  He  would  insist  and  I  would  insist.  I  would 
put  on  my  hat  to  leave  the  house,  and  he  would 
order  me  to  take  it  off.  Who  would  win  ?  He,  of 
course  !  My  father  kept  my  mother  a  prisoner  for 


"HE   LOOKS    LIKE   WALLACE."  305 

months  because  the  law  constituted  him  h«r  master. 
I  have  too  much  spirit  to  endure  that  kind  of  servi- 
tude. And  I  have  no  reason  for  surrendering  my 
liberty.  At  present  I  can  eat  when  I  like,  drink 
when  I  like,  go  to  bed  when  I  like,  get  up  when  I 
like.  I  have  no  one  to  consult,  no  one  to  ask  consent 
of  if  I  wish  to  take  a  trip  to  Fourteenth  street  oi 
Tlemsen.  A  negro  in  Texas  might  as  well  demand 
another  statute  that  would  consign  him  to  slavery 
as  I  to  have  the  bonds  of  matrimony  around  my 
unchained  limbs." 

When  Minnie  was  gone  I  asked  Blanche  if  she 
remembered  what  I  had  told  her  at  Conde  Smendou, 
and  I  repeated  it. 

"You  love  Fantelli,"  I  said.  "You  love  him,  as 
he  loves  you." 

"  Perhaps,  perhaps,"  she  answered.  "  But  if  I 
worshipped  him,  I  would  refuse  just  as  strongly  to 
be  his  wife.  We  could  not  live  in  that  close 
proximity  without  my  wanting  to  assassinate 
him." 

Her  half  admission  surprised  me  greatly.  I  was 
encouraged  to  tell  her  that  her  husband  was  coming 
to  America  on  a  tour  of  sight-seeing,  and  that  I 
wished  she  would  invite  him  to  visit  her. 

"  He  may  come  ;  I  would  like  to  have  him  come," 
she  replied,  without  hesitation.  "  So  long  as  he  only 
asks  my  friendship,  I  shall  be  much  pleased  to  see 
him." 

When  I  repeated  this  to  Dr.  Robertson  and  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  it,  he  shook  his  gray  mane 
savagely. 

*'  Don't  put  conundrums  to  me  1"   he  said.    "  I 


306  OUT   OF    fTEDLOCK. 

used  to  think  I  knew  something  of  the  workings  of 
the  human  mind,  but  I  don't  !  !" 


A  month  later  I  entered  the  Brixton  house  with 
Jules  Fantelli.  Blanche  came  forward  to  greet  usm 
in  a  wonderfully  self-possessed  mood,  and  intro- 
duced him  to  Dr.  Robertson  and  Mrs.  Drew,  as  "  my 
friend,  M.  Fantelli,  that  you  have  heard  me  speak  of 
so  often."  The  Frenchman,  much  perturbed, 
acknowledged  the  salutations  that  he  received,  and 
acquitted  himself  admirably.  If  Blanche  did  not 
fall  in  love  with  him,  she  was  the  only  one  of  the 
household  of  whom  that  could  be  said.  Wallace 
seemed  to  like  him  immensely. 

When  Jules  left  he  received  an  invitation  to  call 
again.  The  second  time  he  was  asked  to  remain  to 
dinner  and  to  bring  Maurice  with  him. 

You  cannot  imagine  a  queerer  party  than  we  all 
made,  with  this  father,  mother  and  child  at  one 
table,  under  the  very  strange  circumstances  of  the 
case.  Blanche  addressed  her  husband  as  "  Mon- 
sieur," and  he  called  her  "Madame."  The  boy  was 
not  well  enough  versed  in  any  language  to  talk  a 
great  deal,  or  he  might  have  complicated  matters 
still  more.  Mrs.  Drew  was  particularly  sweet  to 
Jules.  Stephen  followed  her  lead,  as  usual.  Dr. 
Robertson  was  courteous  to  everybody  ;  but  once  in 
awhile  I  caught  him  throwing  despairing  looks  at 
Blanche,  as  if  to  ask  her  when  she  would  end  the 
farcical  part  of  this  affair. 

We  managed  to  leave  M.  and  Mme.  Fantelli  alone 
together  more  or  less  ;  we  guessed  that  there  were 
things  they  might  like  to  discuss  in  private  ;  but  the 


"HE   LOOKS    LIKE   WALLACE."  307 

door  to  the  parlor  they  occupied  on  these  occasions 
seemed  to  be  purposely  left  open,  or  at  least  ajar. 

In  this  way  several  weeks  passed.  The  brothers 
dined  at  the  Brixton  house  nearly  every  day,  and 
Jules  usually  remained  most  of  the  evening  with 
Blanche.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  visitors  always  took 
their  leave.  My  own  rooms  were  located  in  the 
direction  of  the  hotel  they  occupied,  and  we  walked 
out  together.  But  nothing  was  said — nothing — by 
either  of  us. 

One  evening — this  was  only  a  few  weeks  ago — the 
clock  struck  the  customary  hour  for  leaving  without 
having  any  perceptible  effect  on  Blanche  or  her 
caller.  We  waited  ten  minutes,  which  seemed  very 
long  ones,  and  still  they  did  not  come.  Maurice 
fidgeted  slightly,  but  maintained  silence. 

Five  minutes  more  !  Mrs.  Drew  rose  and  tiptoed 
out  of  the  room.  A  moment  later  she  returned  with 
her  eyes  wide  open  and  her  Ijps  parted. 

"Oh,  Stephen,"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  do  you 
think  !  I  knocked  gently,  and  they  did  not  answer. 
And  then  I  pushed  open  the  door,  and — " 

"  Well  ?"  cried  we  all,  in  one  breath. 

"Why,  Blanche  was  lying  in  his  arms — her  face 
all  wet  with  tears,  and — and — he  was  kissing  fur  F 


303  OUT  or  WEDLOCK. 


READY    FOR   THE   JURY. 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AND   NOW   SUIT   YOURSELVES. 

Mr.  MecKord  paused  and  turned  to  me  with  a  look 
that  s'  'T(  as  clearly  as  words,  "  What  have  you  got 
to  say  ujw  ?" 

And  he  did  not  seem  particularly  flattered  when  I 
replied  that  his  story  had  turned  out  precisely  as  I 
expected  it  would. 

"  Women  are  women,  after  all,"  I  explained. 
**Let  them  get  as  far  as  they  may  out  of  the  paths 
followed  by  their  grandmothers,  inherited  instincts 
are  stronger  than  innovating  resolutions.  Your 
friend  will  be  Madame  Fantelli  the  rest  of  her  life, 
and  probably  all  the  happier  for  the  roundabout  way 
she  took  to  achieve  her  destiny." 

The  retired  grocer  smiled,  with  one  of  his  triumph- 
ant expressions. 

"  We  don't  know  yet  whether  she  will  or  not,"  he 
said.  "She  still  lives  at  her  own  house  and  he  at 
his  hotel.  Nearly  every  day  he  comes  to  dinner, 
and  remains  for  the  evening — and  sometimes  she 
walks  out  with  him — but  so  far  as  we  can  see  this  is 
all*  She  has  given  us  no  indication  that  she  intends 
to  change  this  manner  of  life.  In  response  to  a 
direct  question  of  mine,  just  before  I  left  New  York, 
she  shook  her  head  evasively." 


AND   NOW   SUIT   YOURSELVES.  309 

"  You  are  a  man  of  sense,"  I  answered,  "  and  you 
know  this  can't  go  on  forever  !  They  are  by  your 
own  account  lovers,  and  time  will  surely  bind  them 
closer.  Mark  my  prediction — " 

He  raised  a  finger  to  stop  me. 

"  Don't  prophesy  !  Miss  Brixton  is  a  puzzle  that 
those  who  know  her  best  have  found  impossible  of 
solution.  There  is  no  doubt  that  she  loves  this 
Frenchman  ;  but  she  has  an  overweening  fear  of 
putting  herself,  as  she  calls  it,  'in  his  power.'  She 
is  now  free  to  love  or  to  cease  to  love,  and  she  wishes 
to  remain  so.  She  wants  the  right  to  live  near  him 
or  to  go  to  the  farthest  end  of  the  earth  ;  to  sub- 
mit her  lips  to  his  kisses,  or  to  close  them,  merely 
because  she  wills  it.  She  insists  that  wifehood  breaks 
from  a  woman  the  wings  that  God  placed  between 
her  shoulders  and  compels  her  to  suit  her  pace  to 
that  of  a  man  she  may  learn  to  dread  like  death. 
To  be  sure,  she  may  change  all  of  these  views  ;  on 
the  contrary,  she  may  not.  Neither  of  us  can  tell. 
That  most  women  would  change  is  no  proof  that 
she  will,  for  Blanche  is  not  like  other  women." 

I  remarked  that  I  wished  Miss  Brixton  or  Madame 
Fantelli — or  whatever  she  elected  to  be  called — 
would  make  her  decision  and  have  done  with  it. 
And  I  gave  as  my  very  good  reason  that  I  had  a 
novel  to  write  and  wanted  to  use  her  history  as  its 
basis,  and  could  not  wait  a  great  while  for  the 
denouement. 

"  My  readers,  especially  the  feminine  ones,"  I  said, 
"  will  demand  to  know  the  result  of  this  lady's 
peculiar  doctrines,  or  in  other  words,  '  how  she  came 
out/" 

Mr.  Medford  replied  that  he  had  thought" of  that. 


310  OTTT   OF   WEDLOCK. 

He  believed  the  best  way  was  to  write  the  story  up 
to  date,  constituting  the  public  a  jury  to  try  the  case 
of  the  State  vs.  Brixton.  They  could  argue  it,  pro 
and  con,  and  fix  up  conclusions  to  suit  their  indi- 
vidual selves,  and  in  a  subsequent  story  I  could  tell 
them  what  the  real  ending  was,  after  time  had  de- 
veloped it. 

The  more  I  considered  this  idea  the  more  I  was 
pleased  with  it,  and  finally  I  told  Medford  that  I 
should  follow  his  suggestion. 

"It  will  be  necessary,  will  it  not,"  I  added,  "  to 
express  my  own  opinion  of  the  views  Miss  Brix- 
ton attempted  to  carry  out  ?  There  is  certainly 
nothing  in  the  poor  girl's  history  to  induce  any  other 
woman  to  imitate  her.  As  to  her  unfortunate 
mother,  the  pathetic  lesson  of  her  fault  hardly  needs 
anything  more  than  the  mere  statement  of  it." 

*'  You  can  easily  show  that  you  hold  the  same 
views  as  Dr.  Robertson,"  was  the  reply.  "  Of  course 
no  really  intelligent  person  could  do  otherwise. 
However  sensible  Blanche's  notions  may  seem  in 
the  abstract  they  are  certainly  out  of  place  in  our 
civilization  and  in  this  age  of  the  world.  That 
there  are  hardships  in  some  marriages  for  an  open- 
hearted,  high-souled  woman,  it  is  useless  to  deny  ; 
but  to  jump  from  frying  pan  to  fire  never  yet  cured 
a  burn." 

As  there  was  no  controverting  this  statement, 
which  was  a  much  wiser  one  than  I  should  have  ex- 
pected from  the  mouth  of  a  retired  grocer,  I  merely 
bowed  assent.  And  thus  I  leave  these  people  with 
my  readers. 

There  are  so   many   novels    whose    ending    you 


AND  NOW   SUIT  YOURSELVES.  311 

would  like  different,  it  should  be  a  pleasure  to  have 
one  exactly  as  you  want  it.  You  are  at  liberty 
to  make  Fantelli  the  happiest  of  mortals,  or  to  send 
him  about  his  business  as  drones  are  sent  by  the 
bees  when  the  queen  of  the  hive  has  no  further 
desire  for  their  company.  You  can  constitute  Blanche 
a  femme  scule,  with  her  baby  boy  her  only  care,  or 
mould  her  into  a  plastic,  yielding  wife  who  loves  her 
husband  as  so  good  a  man  might  easily  be  loved. 

All  this  you  can  do — for  the  space  of  six  months. 
For  by  next  June,  when  my  next  novel  comes  *"ut,  I 
hope  to  be  able  to  tell  you  exactly  what  has 
pened. 


THE  END. 


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6. . .  .Boy  Scouts  in  an  Airship;  or,  the  Warning  from  the  Sky 
7. . .  .Boy  Scouts  in  a^Submarine;  or,  Searching  an  Ocean  Floor 
8. .  .  .Boy  Scouts  on  Motorcycles;  or,  With  the  Flying  Squadron 
9. ...  Boy  Scouts  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle;  or,  the  Lost  Expedition 
10; ...  Boy  Scout  Camera  Club;  or,  the  Confessions  of  a  Photograph 
11. . .  .Boy  Scout  Electricians;  or,  the  Hidden  Dynamo 

12 Boy  Scouts  in  California;  or,  the  Flag  on  the  Cliff 

13. . .  .Boy  Scouts  on  Hudson  Bay;  or,  the  Disappearing  Fleet 

14 Boy  Scouts  in  Death  Valley;  or,  the  City  in  the  Sky 

15. . .  .Boy  Scouts  on  Open  Plains;  or,  the  Roundup  not  Ordered 
16 ....  Boy  Scouts  in  Southern  Waters;  or  the  Spanish  Treasure  Chest 
17. . .  .Boy  Scouts  in  Belgium;  or,  Imperiled  in  a  Trap 
18. ...  Boy  Scouts  in  the  North  Sea;  or,  the  Mystery  of  a  Sub 
19. . .  .BoyScoutsMysteriousSignalorPerilsoftheBlackBearPatrol 
20. . .  .Boy  Scouts  with  the  Cossacks;  or,  a  Guilty  Secret 

For  Sale  by  all  Book-sellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  60  cents 

M  •  A  •  DONOHUE  •  &  -  COMPANY 

711  •  SOUTH  •  DEARBORN  •  STREET     •      •     CHICAGO 


Boy  Inventors'  Series 

The  author  knows  these  subjects  from  a  practical  standpoint.  Each 
book  is  printed  from  new  plates  on  a  good  quality  of  paper  and 
bound  in  cloth.  Each  book  wrapped  in  a  jacket  printed  in  colors. 

Price  60c  each 

1 Boy  Inventors'  Wireless  Triumph 

2 Boy  Inventors'  and  the  Vanishing  Sun 

3 Boy  Inventors'  Diving  Torpedo  Set 

4 Boy  Inventors'  Flying  Ship 

5 Boy  Inventors'  Electric  Ship 

6 Boy  Inventors'  Radio  Telephone 


The  "How-to-do-it"  Books 

These  books  teach  the  use  of  tools;  how  to  sharpen  them;  to  design 
and  layout  work.  Printed  from  new  plates  and  bound  in  cloth. 
Profusely  illustrated.  Each  book  is  wrapped  in  a  printed  jacket. 

Price  $1.00  each 

1 Carpentry  for  Boys 

2 Electricity  for  Boys 

3 Practical  Mechanics  for  Boys 


For  Sale  by  all  Book-sellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  oj 
the  above  price. 


M  • A • DONOHUE  •  &  •  COMPANY 

ill  •  SOUTH  •  DEARBORN  •  STREET      •       •     CHICAGO 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L'J-Series  444 


A     000  032  773     4 


